


Fragile Things

by zakhad



Series: Standalone Stories [22]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22926544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/zakhad
Summary: Following the season 1 episode Naked Now, Yar decides to have an intimate relationship with Data, and the outcome of that choice does not turn out as expected.A response to the Big Bang attheir LJ site
Relationships: Data/Tasha Yar
Series: Standalone Stories [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596688
Comments: 14
Kudos: 25





	Fragile Things

**Author's Note:**

> Author note: Events from season one and some of the dialogue from episodes are included. Info from Memory Beta (non canon, book/comic wiki for the Star Trek franchise) was used for some information related to pre-TNG events, though the details in mine will likely be different than the novels. Having a general knowledge of season one TNG helps you understand some of the context for the story. 
> 
> The extrapolations on Tasha’s trauma are based in current understandings of post traumatic stress due to child abuse, and Troi’s choice of intervention is the 24th century version based upon one of today’s effective trauma interventions. 
> 
> This is about a character with a canon background that includes deprivation, rape and trauma. While this is not explicitly discussed, there is a potential for triggers. Major character death - also canon.
> 
> Great gratitude and praise to Seema, the beta and plot bunny enabler. Without her thorough attention to detail there would be more superfluous verbiage, redundancy, and less plot. Thank you also to Jamelia and Rocky for feedback, discussion of plot points, and assistance with the prologue.
> 
> A HUGE thank you to angelus2hot ([ for the artwork for this -- she provided several versions and did lovely work.](https://angelus2hot.livejournal.com/828549.html)  
> 

**Prologue**

Deanna caught up with Data outside his quarters. He had a case in his hands. “Data, I heard the trial was over. Congratulations -- I’m so glad to hear you won’t be leaving the _Enterprise_ ,” she exclaimed as she reached him.

“I am relieved as well, Counselor.” He continued to walk, and she followed him in the door as he continued to speak. “The outcome was unexpected. It seemed to me that Captain Louvois was deciding in favor of Mr. Maddox, until the captain presented his final argument.”

Deanna watched him place the case on the table and open it. He began unpacking it, and she realized that it must be that he’d packed to leave with Maddox. “You did believe you would lose, or you wouldn’t have been ready to go at the end of the trial,” she said sadly.

Data placed a small object, a container with clear sides, on the table, then turned to face her. “You sound sad. There is no need to be, Deanna. I am not going anywhere.”

“Just thinking about losing you makes me sad,” she said, taking a step forward to join him at the table and looking at the object. It was a small holo-emitter, she realized.

Data noticed her attention on the emitter and also seemed sad.

“Data?”

He touched the side of the emitter. A small hologram of Tasha Yar sprang up from it. The holographic Tasha stood with her hands clasped in front of her -- it had to be a clip from the holographic recording that had been played at her memorial. Deanna stared for a moment open-mouthed, and looked at Data, torn between asking and not.

“The captain asked if he could show this in court,” he said, sparing her the decision. “He said that he believed Tasha would not mind that I spoke of her, if she knew what was at stake. She was a very private person and I wanted to respect that. However, I also know that she would be angry that Maddox was attempting to treat me like an object. But I find myself wishing that I had not spoken of my relationship with her at all.”

Deanna looked again at the smiling face of their friend, now deceased for almost a year. “She would have been furious about what Maddox was trying to do. She would have testified herself, and I think she would be as open as she needed to be to ensure success. You know how she felt about you.”

“I would not want her to do anything to compromise or hurt herself on my behalf,” he said quietly, an expression of distaste putting a crease in his brow.

“Data….” All the explanations in the world wouldn’t help, at the moment. Having to talk about Tasha in court had clearly caused him distress. It was obvious that even after all this time, he still felt very strongly about her. Deanna paused, thinking about what might be best to do to help him now. “She would be very happy for your success today. She always wanted what was best for you. As do all your friends. We’re having a celebration on the holodeck -- shall we go?”

He raised his head to look at her, instead of the hologram. “A celebration?”

“Yes. We’re happy for you, Data, you won your freedom. And now that it’s legally established that you’re a person you’re also free of any future attempts to ‘own’ you. It’s definitely a cause for celebration.”

Data’s response was interrupted by Spot jumping up to the table, walking with tail held high to rub her head against his hand. He fondled the cat’s ears briefly. “Shall we go, then?”

Deanna turned for the door. She hesitated as he gave Spot a few more strokes, turned off the hologram, and came along -- they exited together, quickly, so the door would close behind them. His cat had a habit of escaping at any opportunity.

“I wish Tasha were here with us,” he said unexpectedly as they went toward the turbolift.

“So do I,” Deanna said, taking his arm fondly. “I miss her, too.”

“Tasha would be happy that I was able to stand up for myself against someone who believed I was a toaster.”

Deanna held her breath for a few seconds rather than blurt out a question too quickly. A _toaster_? Data went on, surprising her further.

“She knew me better than anyone else. I miss her today as much as I did after her death.” They entered the lift, and she let go of his arm as they turned automatically to face forward. His head tilted and he frowned. “I believed that time would change that. Is it not true that time heals all wounds?”

“Holodeck two,” Deanna said, then hesitated to consider her response. “It tends to be true of humans experiencing grief. But perhaps your subroutines related to relationships lack an algorithm for processing loss and it feels as though it happened recently due to that?”

He considered and then nodded once. “I will perform a diagnostic later. That is possible. Perhaps Dr. Soong did not consider that I would need to grieve.”

Deanna held her tongue about hypotheses regarding Dr. Soong’s intent. After their experience with Lore, she now believed that Data must be more of a happy deviation from Soong’s plan. But that was immaterial.

“I have observed that you are quite adaptable,” she said, smiling. “If you need any help feel free to make an appointment.”

“Thank you, Counselor. I will do so. I have always believed that counseling would not be useful, as I do not have emotions. However, it is obvious that I need assistance and I do not wish to discuss Tasha with anyone else.”

As before, Data seemed much more concerned for Tasha’s privacy than his own welfare. Rather than point out again that Tasha would want him to do what he needed to do, Deanna emerged from the lift with him to join those gathering in holodeck two. She knew that he would be like any other client -- working through the feelings he claimed he did not have in his own time.

That was fine -- patience was her job.

**\- Chapter 1-**

_Data. I'm only going to tell you this once. It never happened._

Tasha stared at the stars through the viewport over her bed. She considered going to sickbay even though she knew the knots in her gut were just anxiety.

It was all well and good to tell Data to forget what happened. Who was going to tell _her_?

Flinging herself over on her left side, she closed her eyes, attempting sleep. Tired, yes, absolutely she was tired. But the vision of Data without clothes was there on the inside of her eyelids.

She drew upon an old practice she hadn’t had to use in a while. Guided imagery and meditation. Some of the things she’d learned from the annoying psychologist she’d seen as a child actually worked.

At some point in the early early morning she finally fell asleep. To dream of fully-functional Data, and the soft brush of his fingers along her bare thigh.

When she opened her eyes, she knew it wasn’t going to be easy to move on. And there was only one person aboard she could fully trust to never say a word about it to anyone else.

“I hate therapy,” she muttered, swinging her legs out of bed.

* * *

When the door opened, Tasha hesitated, then lunged into the counselor’s office.

“Hi,” she said brightly.

Deanna smiled up at her prettily. The counselor was among the first crewmembers she’d befriended, partially in self defense; she knew that there were ethical concerns that prevented psychologists from providing therapy to their own friends. But aside from that consideration, she’d discovered that Deanna was worth spending time with and it was easy to like her. She wasn’t like other counselors Tasha had known before.

“What a surprise,” she said with a lilt in her voice. “Hello, Tasha. You look a little tired today. Is everything all right?”

“Um.” Tasha bounced on her heels once, then sidled over to the couch to sit down. Deanna took the hint and came around her desk, crossed the room, and joined her. The office was soothingly decorated in pastels but not soothing enough to quell the knots in Tasha’s stomach.

“You need to talk about something?”

Deanna’s quiet question invited her out of herself so quickly and easily that she didn’t have the usual wary tension. “Yeah. If you have the time? I wanted your opinion on something.”

“All right.” Deanna kept smiling, but less brightly. Less amused.

“What advice would you give someone who can’t get something that happened out of their head?”

No change in Deanna’s expression at all. She gave a slight nod. “That would depend upon the person, and the nature of the thing he or she was trying to forget.”

Tasha rolled her eyes dramatically. “Something that wasn’t bad, something really good, but unexpected and — sort of not supposed to happen.”

“Not supposed to… I don’t understand.”

She knew it would go this way. She’d come anyway — because she trusted Deanna more than anyone else. Tasha took a deep, deep breath. Braced herself. “When the virus was — you know. After I broke into your quarters and tried on some of your clothes, I went back to my quarters, replicated a — I had an idea, I really really felt — sexy. And then the captain sent Data to my quarters to escort me to sickbay.”

She lurched to a halt, after the rushed accounting. It was too excruciating to continue; her throat clamped shut and she was certain she was blushing.

Deanna nodded again, hardly reacting to Tasha’s internal meltdown. “I see. You and Data did something that you think wasn’t supposed to happen. If you did not force him, and he did not force you, why is it a concern?”

Tasha could hardly take offense at the soft, genuinely-curious question. Part of her wanted to, almost did. But it was easy to put down again. “Isn’t it? Data — he’s an android.”

“He’s a lieutenant-commander in Starfleet, and very rational. If he had a complaint he would make it, I think. In fact, I'm _certain_ he would have talked to you about it.”

Tasha had trouble seeing how Deanna could be _so calm_ about this. When she thought about it, Tasha’s heart raced and her head hurt. She ran her hand over her head, her short hair bristling against her palm. She just felt that what happened with Data was wrong, and knew there had to be a reason that it was.

Although, as the ship’s counselor, Deanna probably had a solid understanding of the sins that officers could commit. And she didn’t appear disturbed by the revelation.

“He doesn’t seem upset,” Deanna said. “So I have to wonder why _you_ are?”

“I — guess, it must be that I see him as not being so — He’s just so innocent, about — “

“Everything _but_ duty?” A fond smile for the android. “Yes. But he is a fast learner.”

“I have to wonder why he isn’t further along that path. He’s a lieutenant-commander, after all.”

Deanna’s expression shifted subtly, and Tasha wondered why she looked sad. “We all have our own journey to take. So I think that your dilemma might be a little too much to unpack, in the ten minutes before my next client comes. Do you want to talk about this more? Would you like to come back in two hours? I have a full hour available then and we can take more time to discuss it. I’d like to help you.”

“Sure. I need to report to the bridge anyway,” Tasha said, jumping to her feet. The ready smile never failed her. Presenting the professional persona was a practiced habit. “I’ll see you later.”

But it was not to be — duty was her focus and when she was on, she stayed on. She forgot the appointment. At the end of the shift, she sat up from her half-eaten dinner and realized with dismay that she'd failed to follow through. Deanna wouldn’t hold it against her, though, because she hadn’t the previous times Tasha had forgotten an appointment, So she decided that after the staff meeting in the morning she would make another appointment.

And again, she became wrapped up in duty, and forgot.

Setting aside her feelings was an old, old habit. So easy to forget they were there. Much easier to be focused on her career, which had been her entire world for the past twelve years.

**\- Chapter 2-**

Tasha found herself watching Data whenever she was in the same room with him. On the bridge it was easy. He always seemed so calm. She wanted to feel that calm, instead of the internal tug-of-war she seemed to have all the time.

After an uneventful morning on the bridge, she went to Ten Forward for lunch, taking a padd containing the security schedule. Some of the junior officers wanted to switch their schedules around, and it would of course impact everyone else. As the department head, she wanted to accommodate changes, for the sake of morale. She sat in a corner with her back to the wall and started to shuffle staff. Then she noticed Data coming in with a female officer. They sat down across the room near the windows.

She wanted to not care. Taking a deep, slow breath, she set aside the jolt of seeing him with Lieutenant-Commander MacDougal. It was duty related, obviously, because Data the unaffected, not-suffering-from-the-virus android was not interested in anyone. And MacDougal didn’t appear as if she had a personal interest in Data.

Tasha glanced up as the waiter brought her the second beverage and took her empty glass. She happened to catch Data’s eye. He smiled — a slight and perfectly normal Data smile, acknowledging her as a friend and comrade — and turned back to his conversation with the engineer.

Tasha returned to her contemplation of the beta shift schedule with an iron will. So she was completely surprised when Data’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“May I join you?”

“Oh — “ Tasha gaped for a few seconds and then forced a smile. “Of course. Good afternoon, Commander.”

Data sat down and placed his cup on the table in front of him. She stared at it for a few seconds, wondering why he had it. “I am planning to play my violin in a concert three days from now. As I have not seen you at the previous performances I wanted to invite you to join us. We have an excellent selection of classic works planned.”

“Data, thank you for inviting me,” Tasha exclaimed, grinning. How sweet he was! “It sounds great — but I’m just not really a big fan of classical music.”

Data blinked and cocked his head slightly. “What kind of music do you like?”

“I don’t really know. I guess I’ve just never had the time to think about that.” Since being taken off Turkana, the failed colony where she was born, her life had been one long grueling race away from that place. _Away_ from the scared, hungry, silent girl she had been. There were still things that she did not completely understand about life in the Federation. She had to seem as though she understood to fit in, but at times she looked at the decadence, the overabundance of resources, and wondered what her life would have been like, if she'd experienced those sooner.

"Our primary mission is exploration. I have applied this to other aspects of human life -- I have enrolled in an art class and I play an instrument now. Captain Picard has said that the arts are an important part of human history, that self expression is a vital part of being human." Data was always so matter of fact about everything. Though he denied feelings he could appear to have some amount of satisfaction at times. She thought he might be smiling a little less by rote, as he talked about it.

"You really admire the captain, don't you?" Tasha smiled at the thought of their commanding officer. One of her mentors at the Academy had spoken highly of Picard, and all of it had been true. What was interesting about Data's apparent admiration was that everyone assumed he was just an android, and this suggested there was more to it than that. Computers didn’t admire anyone.

"I am benefitting from his example," Data said. "I have noticed that he is generally highly regarded among the crew. Do you also admire the captain, Lieutenant?"

"He's the finest officer I have served with," Tasha said. In theory, Starfleet had the best of the best; in practice she’d met a lot of people who were good at their job but less than altruistic in nature. She appreciated the ones who weren’t just doing their job. The ones that believed in living a principled life and following through with respect for others. The captain respected his officers and held the rights of the individual in high regard. He was also the most rational officer she had ever met, and the calmest in a crisis. Something that she had worked hard to manage for herself, and wished she was better at doing.

"I have found that all of my fellow officers aboard the _Enterprise_ are above average in many ways. I have not always been afforded the opportunity to socialize, for example,” Data said, completely derailing her thoughts.

Tasha put down her padd. "You didn't socialize before?"

"I did not. It was never presented to me as an option. I did my duty as ordered and did not think beyond duty until I was encouraged by Captain Picard to do otherwise. I credit his encouragement for my promotion from lieutenant. As I was focused on duty only and never indulged in unrelated conversations, I had never been invited to off shift functions during my previous postings."

Tasha frowned, not liking the sound of it at all. "How could they not invite you if you're a fellow officer?"

"I am an android. I do not experience boredom or feel rejection. But I appreciate your sympathy, Lieutenant." Data raised the cup to his lips, then held it away, looking down at the contents. "I do not find this beverage appealing."

"You can call me Tasha," she said, hoping she wasn't blushing. "I didn't realize you bothered with drinks. I've never seen you with one before."

"Since people make food and drink a significant part of their off duty lives, I make the effort to do so as well. I am able to ingest such substances, so I have been experimenting with different kinds."

"Do you have any favorites so far? I like raktajino." She held up her cup.

"I have not yet decided upon a favorite. This is an Andorian beverage -- perhaps I should try Klingon beverages next." He placed the cup on the table with just the right amount of force. Everything about him was so precise.

"Do you enjoy playing the violin?" It was the only question she could think of to keep conversation going. She was having difficulty not thinking about their encounter in her bedroom. Talking about the violin brought up an image of him playing it, rather than letting her entertain the memory of how soft his skin had been on her palms. She had been startled at how smooth and warm he was.

"I find playing the violin to be challenging, in a way that distracts me from my duties adequately. I have been given to understand that this is the purpose of leisure activities. To take time away from duty."

Tasha almost giggled at the turn of phrase. So many of Data's quirks made sense, once you got to know him. "I'd like to hear you play. I'll try to come to the concert."

"I would like that." Another smile, making him almost seem happy. "I will see you at the concert. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, Tasha. I should return to the bridge as our lunch break has nearly ended."

"All right, Data. Thanks."

He stood, took the cup to leave on the bar, and exited the lounge without looking back. After a few minutes, Tasha shook herself -- she'd drifted into memory again, remembering his soft, warm skin, and it made her blush a little.

Inhaling, she picked up her padd and stared intently at it, not even seeing the words. She liked Data, and it wasn't quite the same as the way she liked the other officers she called friends. Geordi was like a little brother she'd never had. Worf was like a gruff big brother. Riker, she had found some camaraderie with, in the same manner as she'd had with many of her male colleagues over the course of her career; she could be at ease with men who treated her as a peer without a hint of sexual attraction. She knew part of that was Riker being the first officer. He certainly showed interest in other women, including the counselor sometimes, but not in Tasha....

Although, she had seen him smile differently at other female officers. MacDougal included.

As she started to think about that, she wondered: was it really professionalism, or was she just not Riker's type? Part of her whispered that it was because she wasn't like other women.

She blinked and refocused on the padd in front of her. Ten Forward was not the place to start a round of self-analysis. She knew where that rabbit hole went. When her brain failed to tease out the scheduling issue, she returned to the bridge. Standing at tactical,she relied on the level of energy it took to tend to that station to shove aside thoughts that were unbecoming of an officer.

She had worked so hard to get where she was. So hard, to cultivate the professional persona that had gotten her promoted.

She would let nothing get in the way of her career in Starfleet. Not even herself.

**\- Chapter 3 -**

"Tasha!"

Tasha turned, stopping in the corridor, to let the counselor catch up to her. "Hi," she said with a smile. "What's up?"

Deanna returned the smile, but said, "Do you have time right now to talk?"

"I was going to the gym. Can we talk tomorrow?"

"I think we should talk now," Deanna said, firmly.

Tasha knew the counselor, if pushed past that response, would start quoting her job description. "Okay. Should we go to your office? My quarters are closer." She'd just come out of them, in fact.

"Your quarters would be fine." Deanna followed her to her door, joined her in sitting on the sofa. She didn't offer a beverage; it wasn't a social call.

Deanna crossed her legs, smoothing the blue skirt over her knees, and put her hands on her leg primly. "The last mission was quite an achievement for you."

"The Ligonians were interesting. The captain compared them to an earlier stage of human development... but, that's not what you want to talk about," she said, catching herself.

"How are you feeling about what happened, now that the mission is over?"

At least she got right to the point. Tasha set aside the irritation that Deanna would assume there was something to assess, because it was her job to monitor everyone after missions and she had to assume it. Likely she asked the same questions of all the officers after they'd been through stressful experiences.

"I was flattered that Lutan thought I was worth the attention. But I obviously didn't want to give up my career to stay, and he wasn't as appealing as he thought he was."

"You were attracted to him, though," Deanna asked in that half-questioning tone -- she could sense it, obviously.

"There are plenty of attractive people in the universe. They don't distract me any more than Lutan did."

Deanna gazed at her with an impassive, steady look that said she was waiting for something other than the easy answer, and she should try again.

"He spoke to me, while I was in his compound." Tasha didn't like to think about how, despite her determination to listen and not feel anything positive about him, not let him sway her at all toward thinking about staying, she had had moments of amusement, brief thoughts of what it would be like, before shaking herself out of it. She had known even then that Lutan was attempting to manipulate.

Deanna waited, watching her expectantly.

"You were right, what you said before," Tasha admitted. "There were things about him that brought up a... visceral response in me. But he was too primitive. Too greedy. He would have sacrificed me in an attempt to sacrifice Yareena, to obtain _things_. Property and riches. I wouldn't have stayed, even if there had been a way to, and I wouldn't have even listened to him if he hadn't held me captive."

"He wasn't your type?"

Tasha struggled with whether or not to talk about it. How to put it into words, the way Lutan had been so solicitous, so gentle, so polite -- and then he had ultimately wanted to use her to kill his wife. When she had understood that fully, she’d felt such icy rage, before going completely cold inside. Some of the anger returned, as she thought about how he had shown no real concern for her. It made her wonder why she had found him attractive at all.

"He only acted that way. No, he wasn't," Tasha said in a low voice. "Not at all my type."

Deanna seemed to relax visibly; her body lost tension, her shoulders shifted downward, and the smile seemed less forced. "I'm wondering what it is that was so disturbing to you, then.”

"You asked me once about things that shock me, give me a jolt, make me afraid. There was a moment when I was in the room they gave me, when I had the window open and I was sitting there trying to meditate. There wasn't anything else to do so I either did that or exercised, when Lutan wasn't trying to sweet-talk me." She inhaled, hoping she could do this without tears. She hated crying. "There were a couple of men sparring in the yard. One of them shouted at the other in anger. Hearing an angry shout...." The feeling started in the pit of her stomach; she could feel her body tensing up just remembering it.

"Do you know why you had that reaction?" Deanna's voice was so soft, when she asked those kinds of questions.

"The rape gangs would shout at each other in the streets, angry, while they hunted. I can still hear the echo from the walls." Still feel the hard floor, as she huddled in the corner of an empty room, in a building left empty and windowless. Or in a culvert, or an underground tunnel in an old sewer. She’d been just a child, hugging her younger sister and hoping with every careful, measured breath that they would once more be ignored, overlooked, forgotten.

Deanna watched her until she looked up to meet the counselor's gaze. Waiting for her to be ready for the next suggestion. "I can help you with the memories, the flashbacks. Any time you want to start."

"Tomorrow. If you still have the appointment?" She had been so inconsistent with counseling appointments, but Deanna always offered her the same time and day when it came up again.

"Of course." It made her happy. Deanna leaned forward and put a hand over Tasha's where it lay on her lap. "I really hope you remember to come see me. You deserve to be happy. I know that the past bothers you sometimes more than you want to admit -- you can be free of the ghosts, Tasha."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

**\- Chapter 4 -**

_Episode: The Last Outpost_

Tasha left the bridge tired and with a headache. A long day, but the captain had complimented each member of the away team for a job well done. The outpost was far behind them, and everyone had logged reports. The Ferengi were trolls, she decided. Ugly little violent creatures. More bluster than actual ability. She was happy to be done with them. They had recovered the energy converter, made contact with a walking, talking artifact of an ancient extinct civilization -- all in a day’s work in Starfleet.

In sickbay, Dr. Selar administered an analgesic after a cursory exam. “I would recommend a meal and a good night’s sleep. I will further recommend a day of leave tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Tasha said. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

“Good night, Lieutenant.” The Vulcan turned to return the tricorder and hypospray to the cabinet without further discussion. Tasha appreciated the lack of sentiment or reassurance. Sometimes it was less stressful than enduring the concerns of her human crewmates.

She made her way to the turbolift at a slow walk, leaned against the wall of it riding to her deck, and left it when it stopped. Wondering if the doctor had given her a sedative, she yawned as she reached her door.

“Tasha?”

She turned around and smiled wearily at Data. “Hi. I’m just coming off shift. How are you?”

Data had changed out of the torn, dirty uniform into a clean one and combed his hair, after beaming up from the outpost. Defending themselves against the Ferengi had entailed some ducking and rolling. He didn’t look fatigued — but of course he wouldn’t.

“I am doing well. I wanted to ask you if you are feeling better. The encounter with the Ferengi on the planet’s surface was most disturbing to you.”

“Oh, they were ridiculous,” Tasha exclaimed. “Absolutely not upset about it any more. Just another day in Starfleet.”

Data nodded, and while she had the impression he wanted to say something, he remained silent. They stood looking at each other for a moment. She waved her hand toward her own door.

“Would you like to come in? Talk?” She felt awkward as hell, but he nodded, and followed her into her quarters. They were the largest quarters she’d ever had, and some days she felt guilty for having them.

“What would you like to talk about, Tasha?” Data asked.

Tasha sat down on the couch, then draped — put an arm out on the back of the couch, pulled up her legs, half-reclining.

“I don’t know, Data, what would you like to talk about?” She tried to put a hint of humor in her tone of voice,

Data seemed to realize he was standing at attention, and sidestepped to the chair to perch on the edge of it.

“I am continually working on my conversational skills, so I appreciate discourse on any subject, Tasha.”

She giggled, a little upset with herself that it burst out of her — but he didn’t take offense. Then thought about the situation with a little dismay.

“I’m having second thoughts about something, Data. When I told you to forget about what happened between us, I thought it would be easier to just forget it myself. But I think that was a mistake.”

Data’s head tilted right ever so slightly. “So you are asking me to stop forgetting about it? Would talking about it help you?”

“I think it would. It changed the way I feel about you.”

“In what way?” Data sat with his hands on his thighs. He was stiff, upright, his body at a rather uncomfortable-looking right angle to his thighs, but it was how he was — how he always sat, holding himself at attention because that was how he was programmed. Tasha took a deep breath, steeling herself.

“I look at you differently. I think about possibilities. I -- I mean, it hasn’t affected how you are on duty, or our friendship. Could it be possible to have….”

“You are curious about the possibility of an intimate relationship. I too was curious about that possibility, before you asked me to forget about our sexual encounter. It is something that most humanoid species find satisfying. I had supposed that I would be an unlikely candidate, as I am the only one of my kind and not human, and I understand that my social skills are still in need of refinement.”

“Data….” She almost protested his summary, the underlying notion that he was deficient in some way, but it occurred to her that he didn’t think that way. He simply stated things as he perceived them to be, without anxiety. “I think it’s more that you are just different than we are. And it sounds to me like you weren’t given a lot of opportunities to practice in social situations before.”

“That is true. I have had many opportunities aboard the _Enterprise_ , however, and I believe that I am making good progress.”

Tasha’s heart raced, as she thought about this more. Troi’s words about what possible harm their consensual sexual encounter could have caused came to mind — it hadn’t hurt either of them, and it hadn’t been as confusing and anxiety-provoking as attempts she had made while at the Academy. And her Academy years had been all about the classes and Starfleet, with her hyper-focus on getting that professional side of her polished to a high gloss; sexual encounters had not been anything that either party imagined would become a long-term relationship. Except for one man -- but she avoided thinking about him, if at all possible.

“I have to confess that I’m not entirely sure how to have an intimate relationship either, Data,” she said tentatively.

“Then you would benefit from such an experience as well. It appears that having one is necessary to learn about how to have one,” Data said. “There is a wealth of literature, both fiction and non-fiction, in human cultures about coming of age and development of such relationships. Reviewing it has led to the obvious conclusion that experience is the best teacher.”

Tasha gaped at him. He hadn't even asked why she had difficulty with relationships. She'd suspected he wouldn't reject her, as a human might. But not asking for details wasn’t like him; he would ask questions endlessly about things he found interesting, most of the time. She was glad he wasn’t probing. She didn’t think she could say anything about her singular traumatic experience with an intimate relationship. Not without breaking down and reliving the worst of it.

“Would you like to initiate a relationship with me, Tasha?”

“Um….”

“If so, I will reserve a holodeck for us. Would you prefer an indoor or outdoor setting for our first date?”

She almost laughed at his earnest eagerness to please, applied with his usual calm. “How about we choose a venue when we get to the holodeck? It’ll give us time to think about it.”

“That would be acceptable. Would you like to begin tomorrow evening?”

She almost said no. But he was being so overtly kind. Gentle. Nothing anyone tended to be with her. "Yes."

"Then I will come to escort you to the holodeck after alpha shift. Good night, Tasha." He stood up and went out the door.

After the door closed behind him, she burst out laughing.

"What a wonderful person you are," she said, slumping back on the couch and hugging herself.

**\- Chapter 5 -**

_Episode: Where No One Has Gone Before_

Data took her on dates that were simple and easy. Together they explored places all over the Federation, on the holodeck. She hadn’t traveled much for leisure, being so focused on her career. He walked hand in hand with her and occasionally kissed her briefly on the lips. After asking — he was so polite. He quoted the advice he had received early in his Academy studies that suggested always asking before touching someone.

She shied away from public displays of affection and he respected that decision without question. After three weeks he invited her to his quarters for dinner.

"Are you following some sort of schedule, Data?" she asked, as he let her in.

"I am not. If you have preferred activities or wish to do something you need only ask, Tasha." He sat next to her on the couch.

"I wonder if you enjoy our time together," she said, watching his face for clues.

His pleasant smile didn't waver. "I find that I am quite satisfied with our progress. Do you feel the same way?"

"I'm fine with how things are going. I was a little concerned that you might not be. Everyone's got different expectations for relationships, I think."

"Would you like to discuss expectations?"

"Maybe later. I'll get some water, I'm thirsty," she said, rising to head to his replicator. She hadn't had enough that day though she usually drank a lot of water after workouts. "So this Kosinski guy, is he really all he's cracked up to be? Commander Riker thinks he's crazy." Their current mission involved letting Kosinski essentially reprogram the warp engines, experimenting with them. She didn’t like it, and no one else seemed to, but orders were orders.

"I admit that I do not understand what his equations mean," Data said, watching her return with her water. "But we are putting them to the test tomorrow."

"I guess he was successful with other ships?" She sat down again, drank half the water, and put the glass on the table.

"That is what the reports say. The alien with him is also puzzling. The computer does not have any information about his species, and Counselor Troi cannot sense him.” He paused, thinking for a minute. “It is eighteen hundred hours. Would you like something to eat?"

Tasha let him get her dinner, and they talked companionably while she ate; while he could eat, he did not always eat with her. Afterwards, they played chess. He won in twenty-six moves.

"You appear distracted, Tasha," he commented as he put the board away.

"I was thinking that I would like to -- move forward a little more, with our relationship," she said, unable to be specific. She stood up as he returned from the shelf on which the chess board usually resided, and reached out. He didn't hesitate -- as her hands met his chest, his went to her waist. Their lips met and she pushed her tongue forward until he parted his. The brief kisses they'd had were nothing like this. Nothing like what she remembered from the fevered experience while under the influence of the virus. But it wouldn't be -- that hadn't been real.

He was gentle until she was more demanding, matching her efforts with equal fervor. She continued kissing him, holding his face and seeking feelings she couldn’t find. When she pulled away, he left his hands on her hips and watched her face expectantly.

She felt awkward, suddenly. She’d lost the momentum she’d had as the usual discomfort with being touched arose, but realized that didn't matter. He never commented on those moments when she struggled with what to say, and he didn't care if she simply stated blunt intent. There was always an escape route and he would never take it personally.

"I should go. See you tomorrow?"

"Of course. Good night, Tasha. Sleep well."

In her quarters, she lay on the bed staring at the stars, the ceiling, wondering if she would ever be normal.

Sex while under the influence of the virus had been fevered and passionate, nothing like anything she’d experienced before. For her, sex had always been fraught with anxiety -- something she feared even when she really wanted it. She knew they wouldn’t get to passion right away, but she hoped it would happen again without the virus interfering. She fell asleep thinking about it.

In the morning, she went to the bridge.

All hell broke loose. Kosinski’s attempt sent the _Enterprise_ — somewhere. The stars didn’t even look right. Another universe? Another dimension? It defied explanation.

This was the kind of situation in which she felt useless. Security officers had rudimentary training in engines and warp fields, but there was nothing basic about the ship being flung across the universe. She could only watch the main viewer and listen to the others. At one point Deanna, the other bridge officer who had little to offer when the _Enterprise_ was facing some stellar phenomena, looked over her shoulder and up — their eyes met, and after a tense moment of shared emotion, the counselor turned back to stare at the bright blue lights on the viewer.

“Data, you have the bridge, I’ll be in Engineering,” the captain said, strolling up to the turbolift.

Tasha watched the lights on the viewscreen. They were almost hypnotic. A grunting sound interrupted her brown study. She turned to see Worf, who’d been at a secondary station behind her, standing over an animal with a lot of horns and fur.

“What is it?” she asked, stepped back from tactical. How did an animal suddenly show up on the bridge?

“A Klingon targ! My pet, from home, but when I was a child.” Worf sounded… delighted. Not what she would expect from him.

“You’re telling me that’s something like a kitty cat?” Tasha exclaimed, shocked.

Worf knelt and reached for the targ. “Yes, I suppose you could call it that,” he said.

A familiar sound behind her drew her attention away from Worf and the targ — paws landing on a surface. A soft little _mrrow_ , and her beloved cat stood on the console in front of her. Tail up, whiskers twitching, looking up at her expectantly. He was orange and white, with the same notched ear and a kink in the tail from a healed break, looking around at the bridge. Tasha hadn’t seen him since leaving Turkana. She’d felt anguish at leaving him behind, but her rescuers hadn’t indulged her in looking for him.

Automatically, she reached for the cat. “You darling, what are you doing here?” she murmured, fondling his head, holding him to her chest.

A shout — her body stiffened. Somehow she had been taken off the bridge and transported to a dark corner. The dank smell of the tunnel on Turkana IV shocked her. She held the cat and turned to look down the shadowy tunnel. Movement, feet scuffling and a clank, at the far end, and more shouting. Her heart started to flutter, then hammer in her chest.

“Now, run. This isn’t a safe place at all.” She dropped the cat, shooed it away, and stood up again. Even if she had to flee her current corner in the tunnel, the cat would know to come out when she came back and called it. They’d done it before.

A hand on her shoulder shocked her. Every muscle tensed in terror.

She was on the bridge. No transition. She glanced around wildly. Her cat was gone.

“I was — I was on Turkana,” she blurted.

Geordi’s concern startled her again. “You look scared to death.”

“I — don’t know, I don’t understand what just happened. Was I _here_ the whole time?”

“Yeah. What’s going on?” Geordi muttered. He crossed his arms.

“Tasha?” Deanna had joined them, coming up the bridge behind Tasha, and Tasha flinched.

“It’s… nothing. I was just — “ She had no words to describe it.

Deanna’s expression said that she knew exactly what Tasha had experienced. The emotions, at least. “This is a strange place. Everyone aboard is experiencing frightening phenomena. It’s clearly not a place that — “

The red alert klaxons sounded, interrupting her. The captain or the first officer must have initiated it from engineering, since no one on the bridge had. The bridge officers gave each other wide-eyed looks and returned to their stations. Deanna went down to her seat. And then the captain’s stern words came over the communications system.

“This is the Captain. This is not a drill. It seems that in this place, the world of the physical universe and the world of ideas is somehow intermixed. What we think also becomes a reality. We must, therefore, I repeat, must begin controlling our thoughts. We will give you more on this as our understanding increases. The _Enterprise_ will stay at full alert until the crisis is over.”

Tasha inhaled sharply and did her best to comply. Her heart thudded in her chest, though, and her mind wouldn’t stop racing back to Turkana, replaying shouts and angry calls of men — or the screams of their victims. She had to keep bringing herself back to the bridge, over and over. She glared at the console in front of her and finally managed to stay focused on it.

Then the captain returned. He stopped and eyed her briefly, as she stood at attention at tactical, Worf standing behind her. Then he marched down the bridge and turned to Deanna.

“We are about to go back — or make a good effort,” he said, sounding less stern. “Do you have any further advice, Counselor?” He always spoke to Deanna with respect. Tasha hadn’t heard him be dismissive of her opinion yet. There had been other officers who disdained counselors in general.

“When you begin the attempt, there will be stress, and it's only natural the crew's concentration will shift.” Deanna sounded so calm!

Tasha rarely felt that calm. But she could sound controlled, calm, even if her heart jumped and her stomach knotted. She leaned forward, addressing them as they stood in the center of the bridge in front of their chairs. “Plus some genuine fear, Captain. You can't notice what's happening outside without feeling some of that.”

The captain glanced at her, straightened, tugged his uniform and inhaled. “All decks, all stations. This is the Captain speaking. In a few moments, as we attempt to warp back home, it is vital, absolutely vital, that you center your thoughts on your duty or on the welfare of the one called the Traveller. Think of giving him some of your strength. This is an order. You must try to do this. Think of him as someone you care deeply about. All decks, all stations. Battle stations!”

Well, that was a strange request, but Tasha followed the order anyway. Or tried to.

“Helm, set in warp one point five, retroactive course,” the captain snapped. He sat down. Deanna did the same.

Geordi turned his chair and obeyed the order. “Warp one point five, retroactive two six one mark three one, sir.”

“Bridge to Engineering. Stand by,” Picard said curtly.

“I feel such an abundance of well being on the ship. It feels quite wonderful,” Deanna sounded absolutely blissful. It always surprised Tasha that Deanna was so confident, even when the captain was so tense. Situations like this usually put a knot in Tasha’s stomach that took forever to untangle.

“Engineering to Bridge, we're ready,” came Riker’s voice over the comm system.

The captain nodded. “On my order, Mister Data, Mister La Forge. Engage.”

Tasha watched the screen, trying to divide her attention between the readouts on her console and the view forward. Things were happening, but she couldn’t interpret what the sensors were telling her.

The captain blurted, "It’s not happening. It's not enough.”

But then there was a huge shift — the lights on the screen blurred and went white, and the bridge filled with the light until Tasha couldn’t see anything. She gripped the edge of the tactical console and tried to breathe. And then it all shifted back. Reality restored. She took a shuddering breath, refocused, and checked everything — they were at warp, and everything across the board looked clear and normal. On the main view screen it was back to the familiar — points of light, in motion, as they traveled at warp.

And Data sounded as if nothing were out of the ordinary! “Warp one point five, sir, which is what my instruments have read all along.”

Geordi, on the other hand, sounded properly awed. He glanced over his shoulder from where he sat at the helm. "And our position reads exactly what it was before this sleigh ride began, sir.”

“Cancel red alert,” the captain said.

Tasha noticed Data cock his head. “Sleigh ride?”

“Or whatever you want to call it, Data. I don't have a proper name for it,” Geordi said.

Riker arrived, shooting out of the turbolift as if he’d been running. “The Traveler's gone, sir,” he announced as he marched down the bridge.

“Gone?” Picard exclaimed in surprise.

“He's phased completely out of existence. At least, out of our existence.”

The captain heaved an audible sigh. “Attention all decks. This is to inform you that with your support the Traveller has returned us to our galaxy. However, he has now left us. Wherever he has gone, we wish him well.” The bald head turned to the first officer, now standing at his right hand. “Have the boy sent to the bridge, Number One.”

“Wesley Crusher, report to the bridge, on the double,” Riker rapped out. There was a hint of amusement in his expression that his tone didn't convey.

“Our next assignment is on this heading?” the captain asked, in conversational tones, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Yes, sir,” Riker replied.

Tasha smiled, as Wesley Crusher bounded out of the turbolift. The captain stiffly gave him the promotion to acting ensign. Evidently he’d done something worthy of the promotion in engineering during the crisis. Tasha nodded approval at him when he looked up at her as he hurried to sit and observe. It put him out of her line of sight, next to Deanna’s seat.

Then it was another anticlimactic two hours until the end of the shift, at which point Tasha handed off tactical to Lieutenant Nass, who would be on beta shift.

Data and Geordi joined her in the lift, and Riker darted in at the last minute. “Well, I’m ready for the end of the day. We’ll be traveling at warp most of tomorrow, anyone up for a holodeck simulation?” Riker asked.

“That depends on what kind,” Geordi said. “Don’t think I’m up for anything really adrenalin-filled. In fact, I’m kinda thinking sleep is a really good idea.”

“How about 18th century Earth, England? Maybe a visit to Colonial America?”

Riker and LaForge chatted about holodeck programs, but Tasha left the lift when the door opened in her section. Data followed her after saying good night to their friends. As she walked, she knew she was going to crash hard even if she still felt jumpy and fidgety.

“Data, can you come to my quarters?”

“ Do you need to talk? It was a very difficult day.”

Tasha led him in, turned to look at him, and started to take off her jacket. “It was, and I already know I’m in for a difficult night. Please stay with me?”

“Of course.”

He followed her into the bedroom without question. Without a word, she retreated to the bathroom, took off the uniform down to the undershirt, tossed the jacket and pants in the slot. When she returned to the bedroom he was laying on the bed -- straight as a ruler -- still in uniform, though he'd taken off his boots.

Tasha felt somewhat self conscious in only her undershirt, but curled up next to Data and clung to him. He was an anchor to keep the ghosts of the past at bay. His arms went around her and she finally fell asleep. It never lasted; she always woke every few hours, sometimes with memories of the nightmare she had, sometimes with foggy feelings of fear or sadness. But she was tucked in against Data’s solid body, and he didn't move or say a word. When she resettled with her head on his shoulder, his arm tightened around her shoulders, then relaxed.

In the morning she thanked him, and was relieved that he didn’t ask for explanations, just wished her a good day, kissed her lightly on the lips, and went to the bridge for Alpha Shift. She ate a bland bowl of cereal for breakfast as her stomach was churning. Then she put on a clean uniform and went to Troi’s office.

When she was admitted she came in to find Deanna looking up at her calmly from the end of the couch as if she’d been expected.

“Good morning,” Deanna said softly. “Have a seat. Yesterday was very difficult for you, I know.”

Tasha sat and fidgeted, picking at one of her fingernails. “You were right.”

“I was?” Deanna had suggested in one of their first discussions of her past that the trauma might resurface, while Tasha had insisted her childhood wasn’t a concern. Yesterday was the first solid evidence that Deanna had been correct.

“I had nightmares last night. I hallucinated the rape gangs were on the bridge yesterday in the middle of a crisis, and then there was the cat. I had a cat for a while when I was a kid. I saw that too, on the console. It felt like I’d been transported back in time. And my heart hasn’t slowed down much since then.”

“I don’t want you to talk about it,” Deanna said.

Tasha stared at her, rather than continue looking at the floor. “Really?”

“There are ways of handling trauma without talking about it. Let me explain.”

And then she was feeling like she was in a classroom at the Academy, but the things Deanna explained… it wasn’t the same as before. Deanna delved into neuroscience and steps to take to reduce the panic. Coping skills that would reduce her reactions to the bad memories that involved physical activities, not mental. It took time, nearly a full hour. Some of it Tasha had heard before from other counselors, but the rest of it, and the explanations of how the human brain behaved after trauma, no one had bothered to tell her. Of course, previous psychologists had been working with her against her will; she'd been resistant, only doing what was necessary to get through the Academy. Asking questions would have only encouraged them.

When Deanna finished explaining how she wanted to handle Tasha’s trauma, it didn’t sound impossible.

“I thought counseling was about talking things out,” Tasha said.

“But not everything can be talked out. Trauma is often one of those things. Come back tomorrow morning at the same time and we can get started. We'll start with biofeedback.” Deanna studied her thoughtfully. “I haven’t seen much of you over the past few weeks.”

“I’ve been caught up in other things I guess.” Tasha was immediately nervous; she hadn’t said a word to Deanna about all the time she’d been spending with Data.

“Caught up?”

“I’ve been getting to know Data. We talk, and visit the holodeck. Last night he helped me settle down so I could sleep.”

“So you’re closer,” Deanna said with a faint smile. “Is this turning into more than a friendship?”

Tasha shrugged uncomfortably. “We’re open to that. He’s been very supportive.”

Deanna kept smiling, but Tasha had the distinct feeling that she was hiding her true feelings — that she was concerned. “Data is a good friend. He’s tried very hard to cultivate his social skills.”

“Yes,” Tasha said with a grin. “I think he’s gotten better. When he came aboard I thought he was just an android, a computer, but he’s changing my mind.”

“I hope everything goes well,” Deanna said. “Perhaps we’ll talk about it more later. I’m afraid this is the end of our session. I have someone coming in a few minutes for an appointment. But I'm glad you checked in with me.”

“Sure, no worries, I’ll be back tomorrow. Thanks, Deanna.” She almost stood up, but paused. "The things you explained... is that what you’ve been trying to get me to come to appointments for? So you could explain all of that?"

Deanna nodded. "During our other sessions we've talked about other things, and you haven't had nightmares or flashbacks, so I was intending to bring it up when you were more comfortable with therapy. Do you feel like you are ready to really work through it, this time? Because I do not want to force you to do it. If it interferes with duty that's different, but I haven't seen any indication that's so."

"I think... I really should come, and I'm sorry I missed appointments before. This time I want to do it, honestly. I'll see you tomorrow."

Tasha headed for the bridge. Data was at his post; as she reached tactical he glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her. It was just a slight twitch of the lips, before he turned back to the ops console.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to settle her stomach and focus on the sensors. It would hopefully be a quiet day, so she could get back to balanced.

**\- Chapter 6 -**

“Do you wish to copulate,” Data said out of nowhere.

Tasha almost dropped the padd. They were sitting in Ten Forward, though, so she kept it together — but only just. It wasn’t crowded, thank goodness.

“We have been seeing each other for seven weeks. I am given to understand that there are no set expectations, no traditional durations, to determine an appropriate — “

“Can we talk about this later?” she blurted.

She was happy to note that she wasn’t panicked by his sudden _non sequitur_. Working with Deanna had brought her to a better frame of mind over the past three weeks. They had progressed through two weeks of daily biofeedback, into talk therapy, which now that some of the hypervigilance and the flashbacks had decreased felt less threatening. She had been shocked by the rapid change in her mood; a low level anxiety she had not been completely aware of had dissipated, and suddenly she felt more present in her own body, more grounded than ever before, leading to the realization that she’d actually been more numb than she’d thought.

Being able to discuss her past in therapy without panicking made all the difference in the world. Not being flooded with adrenaline kept her rational, and helped her accept and move past some of the irrational beliefs she’d had, rather than continue believing it would never change. And now that she understood more about where anxiety came from, how being stuck in survival mode for years had set her up to be wary about everything and everybody, she wanted very much to start finding ways to be more comfortable in friendships, and with Data.

Data studied her with a very slight frown. “Is this an inconvenient time, then?”

Tasha glanced around nervously and leaned forward slightly, narrowly avoiding knocking over her drink. “This is a private matter, a personal thing. I’d rather not discuss it here. After we’re in quarters, sure, but this is Ten Forward.”

“I understand. My apologies, Tasha. I did not intend to embarrass you.”

Tasha inhaled sharply and glanced around again. “No problem — just — let’s finish our drinks?”

“Of course.”

Tasha picked up her glass to sip, and as she put it down again movement to her right distracted her. She managed not to flinch, looked up and gave Will Riker a nervous smile. “Hi, how’s it going?”

“Great. Are you here for the show?” The first officer cradled his trombone in his arms and stood grinning down at her.

“You’re playing tonight? Y’know, I’ve heard you play before -- have you practiced?"

Will's chin jutted as he took the teasing with good humor. "I have indeed," he intoned solemnly, bowing slightly.

"Do you want to stay, or should we go?" she asked Data with a smile.

"What would you rather do, Tasha?"

Will was now eyeing them with a little suspicion. She wondered if he had not noticed all the time she and Data spent together. "How about we stay for a while and see if we want to stay for the whole thing?"

"That sounds appropriate." Data gave a nod of approval.

"I shall endeavor to entertain," Will said with a slight bow. He grinned, then sauntered off to the corner where the lieutenant who played the drums for the jazz band was putting together a cymbal.

"Perhaps some time I will learn an instrument suitable to playing jazz," Data commented with his usual diffidence. He watched Lieutenant Commander Briggs enter Ten Forward with his trumpet. "It has been easier for me to learn how to play classical music, however. There is a degree of certainty to having sheet music, rather than attempting to improvise as most jazz musicians do."

"I know you’re a good musician. Why do you think you can’t improvise?”

Data nodded toward Riker. “I lack the human element.”

The band started up. Will Riker led them off with some sassy romping jazz, making long swoops of the slide on his trombone. It wasn’t Tasha’s idea of good music. Fun music, sure, and it was neat to see the first officer cutting loose. After a couple of songs she gestured toward the door and stood up. Data followed her out.

He waited until they were in her quarters to speak again. “I attempted to find out when your birthday is. Your Starfleet records do not include it.”

“No. The records on Turkana were nonexistent and I don’t really remember. They estimated my age based on my DNA.” She dropped to the couch, pulling up a leg to sit with her foot under her bent knee.

“I have noticed that other humans share stories about each other while getting to know each other. I hesitated to ask many questions of you because I know that you had a difficult childhood that you tend to avoid discussing.” Data sat down on the chair. He seemed uncertain. A subtle difference with him, but she’d spent enough time with him now to notice it.

“You can ask, Data,” she said, thinking it would be a good test of her progress. If she could talk about the past without crying, it would be miraculous.

He’d been perched on the edge of the cushion, but as she spoke he slid back and actually rested against the back of the chair. Something about that change of posture surprised her. Touched her. So many things about him made her smile.

“You know what they say about Turkana,” she said, picking up one of the cushions and holding it in her arms. It was a habit in counseling, one that Deanna commented on once in a while, a way of feeling safe. Hiding behind a square of fabric and fluff. Holding something in her arms to comfort herself.

“I have researched logs by Starfleet officers who witnessed what happened there.”

“Do you know about symptoms of post traumatic stress in humans?”

Data gave a single nod. He seemed to be reticent to speak.

“You can tell me if you’ve seen them in me. I already know I have them. I know that you notice way more than you say, about all of us.”

A rueful little quirk of his lips said that was true. “I think that this is one of the aspects of intimacy that I am only now experiencing with you. You are better able to observe the finer details of my behavior.”

“I think that you notice things, and you don’t comment because it would be rude. Or you don’t want to give away that you’re more aware than others think.”

“Actually, I believe that I understand but still at times I find myself being corrected -- I am unable to comprehend the motive or the emotion behind behavior consistently. There are still many things that confuse me. I do not wish to speak out of turn.”

“Do I confuse you?”

He nodded again, but smiled. “I am sometimes surprised by things you say. I find that one of the enjoyable things about our relationship.”

“Ask what you want to ask, Data.” Tasha clutched the cushion more tightly, bracing herself internally while attempting to put on a pleasant smile that welcomed the question. "Even about my childhood."

“When you sleep sometimes you have dreams. You say things that make little sense to me. You cried out for something called ‘kitty,’ which is a common term for a feline. Did you have a cat?”

“I rescued a cat from some kids who were trying to light it on fire.” Tasha inhaled and renewed her grip on the edges of the pillow. “We took care of each other.”

She’d also taken care of Ishara, for a while, but she wasn’t ready to talk about her sister. Not to Data, Troi or anyone. It took a moment to put down the rising anguish of touching on the memory of her, but Data was patient. It was easier than she expected. The biofeedback had really worked miracles.

“What you have mentioned in passing about your childhood suggests that you have seen many people die,” he said. “Human children are adversely affected by such conditions, according to my research.”

“Oh, yes,” Tasha exclaimed, rolling her eyes and leaning her head back against the couch to stare up at the ceiling. “Yes. I passed the entrance exam when I was seventeen. Prior to that I spent two and a half years in foster care, with a lovely family that I haven’t spoken to since I took off for the Academy. They were so perfect. So understanding. And I was so — not perfect. The psychologist I was seeing had a hard time with me but she was brusque and learned not to be sympathetic at all toward me, because it made me angry. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to be what I was not. So I lied and ignored my feelings as hard as I could, and stashed food in the back of my closet. I stole things. I ran around at night through the neighborhood full of calm, normal human beings who didn’t understand why they woke up to footprints in their flowerbeds. I couldn’t sleep more than a few hours at a time.”

Data listened soberly, his head tilted slightly to the right. “But you changed.”

“I did. I changed, and I kept changing while attending school. I got in fights, but I did all the work and got good grades. My second year of school I managed to avoid fights by just not talking to the other kids. I did a lot of extra credit because I never went to school before and there was a lot of catching up to do. I couldn’t read at first. Most of the time I forced myself to say all the right things while my heart hammered in my chest because my body was convinced that I had to be ready for anyone around me to attack me in some way.” Tasha smiled, thinking about Deanna’s careful explanations of the brain and all its primitive mechanisms. “Eventually it got better. I can trust people in Starfleet uniforms, most of the time.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Oh,” she blurted. Pushing aside the cushion, she crossed her legs. “Data.”

“I believe that you do, because you are telling me things that you do not tell anyone,” he went on. “But I want to confirm the assumption.”

Joy welled up in her. “Data, of course I trust you,” she said softly. “I love you.”

His eyes widened, his head came up slightly, and they gazed at each other for a long moment. He smiled, in what she could only assume was a mirror of the happy smile she wore.

“I love the way you are,” she went on. Now that the words had been said it felt like she could go on. “You don’t get confused or worried about me. You don’t — expect me to do things or say things that I’m not ready to do, you accept me as I am. And I really think you’re absolutely delightful.”

“I have been waiting for direction from you. I have no need to rush through or to expect anything that you do not wish to give me. And accepting you is easy, as there is nothing about you that is unpleasant or unacceptable.”

Tasha exhaled, looking at the floor. She thought she could feel her cheeks burning.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, Data. I think I’m better than I’ve ever been, actually. I’ve been working with Counselor Troi. I don’t think I told you about that.” She looked up at him, to find he was as he always had been. Watching her calmly, with the hint of a smile.

"Is it helping?"

"Do you know what biofeedback is?" It was difficult to explain, because so much of what Deanna had said was technical -- a lot of the details were irrelevant to her, she just did as she was told and it worked.

"The use of sensors feeding the activity of the brain back to the brain, in order to restore optimum neural activity, supporting the health of the person. In this case, to address trauma?"

"Yes. A sensor net on my head for two hours a day, while I'm watching the screen and listening to the tones. It's beyond me what it's really doing but I can't argue with results. I’m really starting to get better. Getting rid of the flashbacks and nightmares. Feeling less… spaced out. It used to be an ongoing problem, but it happened when I was feeling stressed, here and there during the day. It’s not happening anymore. And it also led me to realize I wasn’t as clear-headed as I thought, because wow, I’m feeling so clear now compared to what I was a few weeks ago. I wish I had done it a long time ago.”

"I have noticed the quantity of your nightmares have decreased," he said quietly.

“Before I did the biofeedback, there were triggers, reminders, that caused me to re-experience things. Sometimes I would hear something, like an angry tone of voice or a shout, and it’s like the past just rushes up and swallows me whole. The fear, more than anything else. But I’m feeling a lot clearer than I used to feel without having to resort to wearing myself out. I even heard someone yelling angrily in the gym the other day and actually caught myself expecting the reaction that I didn't have. It was fantastic. I was so happy about that.”

“I am glad that you feel better,” he said simply. “I hope that there is nothing that I do that causes you to feel those symptoms.”

“That’s the best part about you. When we’re together I feel fine. I feel good, in fact. And to answer the question you asked earlier — I don’t feel like I’m ready to… copulate. Yet.” Now her cheeks must be red. She almost put her hands over her face, but refused. “I’m still working on some of the trauma around the time I was raped. It’s… different than the rest.”

He didn’t move, but it was obvious that she’d surprised him; he seemed to be tense. The slight smile was gone. He waited, watching her, his face carefully composed and neutral, rather than ask any further questions, and she loved him for that.

“What we did before was possible because the virus made me feel different. I want it to be good, when we do it again. I want it to be real. And I feel closer to it than I’ve ever felt before.” She almost went on to explain the experiences at the Academy, fumbling with someone she barely knew, exploring urges she hardly understood. There had been times that she’d decided she would never have sex again, believed it would never be comfortable for her.

But it was a difficult explanation and it could wait, because Data did as he usually did. He accepted her assertion with his usual composure, and moved on. “I will wait for you to tell me when you are ready, Tasha. Because I do not require physical affection, it is no inconvenience to me. Have you ever engaged in an intimate relationship before?”

Tasha almost said no. But it would be untrue; she almost flinched, thinking about Adin, and the long story of her relationship with him. Angst-ridden and drama-filled as it was, she really did not want to tell it, and regretted inviting Data to ask her anything. She hadn’t anticipated this particular question.

“Once. It was -- horrible. I was too young and ignorant, and caught up in the worst of the post-traumatic stress, when I was with him.” She couldn’t even say his name out loud, and it had nothing to do with trauma -- the whole thing was profoundly embarrassing to her now. She inhaled deeply, hoping she wasn’t as flushed as she felt.

“I am sorry that you suffered so much,” Data said, almost sounding sad. “You have a great deal of strength and courage. You did not allow any of what happened to overwhelm you. You have survived and I admire your tenacity and your spirit.”

His quiet words almost brought her to tears. She shook her head, shook it off, forced a smile. “Thanks, Data. I’d like if you spent the night with me tonight, if that’s all right. I sleep better when you’re here.”

“Of course.”

It was nice that he could move on without expectations or hurt feelings, as she wasn’t certain she would keep herself together if the review of her past continued. This time, when she climbed into bed with him, sliding under the covers, he reached for her instead of waiting like an automaton. She settled with her cheek to his shoulder, draping herself over his solid body and relaxing into sleep without hesitation.

**\- Chapter 7-**

Tasha came off Alpha Shift, her heart pounding, a huge knot in her stomach. It had been one of those missions from the moment Lore had been turned on until the moment he’d been beamed away to infinity. She left Worf in charge on the bridge. It should be quiet now that Lore was gone.

Troi was waiting outside the door to Tasha’s quarters. Today the counselor wore one of her blue-green dresses that looked so perfect on her. Her eyes were full of concern and sadness.

“I’m really tired,” Tasha said. She tried not to sound annoyed though she was sure Deanna sensed it. But Tasha didn’t want to talk about Data and all the fears she’d had over the course of their visit to Omicron Theta. Would he go away with his long-lost brother? Would Lore stay aboard and steal all Data's time away? She'd seen from the first that Lore was very different, sneaky, not at all what the others assumed. She had even questioned Data's loyalties to the captain, concerned that they were losing him. Doing so had felt like betrayal, but Data wasn't noticing that something was off about Lore. Being without guile unfortunately meant that he had little insight into such manipulative behavior.

More than all of that, Tasha really, really wanted to forget that they had been so close to losing Data. And all the pent-up tension from a day of keeping herself together on duty had her close to bursting into tears anyway.

Deanna wasn’t letting her off the hook, however. “I know you need rest. But I’m concerned about you, after everything that’s happened today. Please take a moment to talk.”

Tasha went inside. Deanna came in after her and stood there with her arms crossed across her stomach, more like she was hugging herself than out of frustration. She waited, watching with those gleaming black eyes that sometimes turned into mirrors.

“I shouldn’t be so upset. Data is all right,” Tasha said, waving her hands dismissively. “He doesn’t even sound bothered by what Lore tried to do to him.”

“I agree,” Deanna said softly. “He doesn’t.”

Tasha turned away and wandered around her living room, which while it was larger than any previous place she’d lived, it suddenly felt small.

“Lore manipulated Data.”

“He tried to, yes.”

“I don’t know why anyone trusted him,” Tasha went on. She shook her head. “No, I do know. Because we thought he was like Data. But we should have reserved judgment, been more careful. He tried to destroy us. Collaborated with an entity that killed colonists.”

“But Data and Wesley stopped him.”

“Barely in time! If Lore hadn’t made mistakes he would have — “ Tasha started to cry. Covering her face with her hands, she turned away from her friend.

Deanna put her hands on Tasha’s arms, and Tasha turned around to lean against her. This wasn’t the counselor, she knew. The counselor never touched her. Feeling someone’s arms around her was unusual, because no one hugged her except Data; the foster parents on Earth had tried a few times and she’d rebuffed them. Being held usually made her feel trapped. There had been times as a child that she’d been grabbed, carried, forced. Her visceral reaction to such contact had generally been panic.

This was an exception. Somehow, Deanna was able to make her feel safe, not trapped. Tasha’s tears bubbled up for a time, and then she pulled away. If only she didn’t turn into a blotchy mess when she cried. She smiled sheepishly, rubbing her face, looking at Deanna with itchy eyes.

But Deanna still gazed at her with soft concern. “Should we talk about how concerned you are about Data?”

“I want to talk to Data about it. And there’s something else. I know what you’re going to say about it, and you’re probably right, but I think I want to put the counseling on hold for a while.”

Deanna’s expression didn’t change. “That’s always been your choice. I never wanted to force you or convince you to be in counseling. It should always be your choice, because if you’re feeling forced it won’t help.”

Tasha laughed again breathlessly. “Yeah. I just need a friend right now. Will you help me with something?”

Deanna’s smile spread to her eyes; she was so lovely, when her eyes laughed. “I thought that’s what I was doing?”

“I need advice. On makeup, and clothes. I want to look like a woman.”

That brought a furrow to Deanna’s brow. “You already look like one. You look fine.”

“Well, sure. But you know what I mean. I always wear the uniform. I want to go on a date looking like I’m on a date. And I don’t use makeup much because I always look like a clown when I try to wear it. You always look so perfect, you know how to dress attractively. Will you help me?” She knew her cheeks were probably red; she could feel the heat in them.

Deanna’s smile returned. “I understand it will take a couple of days to get to our next destination. If you want to spend a few hours tomorrow afternoon I can try — but the salon might be better equipped to help you.”

“I don’t know them. I can’t trust them. You know how it is. What my triggers are.” Letting anyone touch her body had always made her anxious and likely to flinch. While the biofeedback and therapy had definitely reduced her anxiety in so many ways, that particular trigger hadn't been really tested, and the thought of the salon made her fidget. Mr. Mott’s intrusive assumptions had already led her to avoid the salon when he was there, when she needed her hair trimmed.

“I do.” A little of the concern returned to her eyes. “Are you going to be all right tonight?”

“I’m going to get something to eat. Data said he would be here for me. I think it'll be fine.”

Tasha exchanged another smile with Deanna, and then her friend gave her a nod and left without further comment. Once the door closed, Tasha exhaled and asked the replicator for a meal. The mechanics of life were what kept her moving forward, in times of stress, and this was no different.

When Data arrived, she was wearing the plain white nightshirt and waiting in her bedroom, seated on the end of the bed. He came in slowly and stopped in front of her, looking at her with a clear expression of sad resignation. For an android with “no feelings” he managed to be more expressive than many humanoids.

“I was so afraid,” she whispered. Words she hadn’t ever said to anyone really. She never had the luxury of being able to admit that. Weakness was something that could be exploited. “We almost lost you.”

“I wanted to trust my brother. I should not have assumed he was like me. I should have seen what he truly was much sooner than I did.”

Tasha rose and went to put her arms around his neck, leaning in close to brush her lips against his.

“You did nothing wrong. I’m so glad you’re safe.” Some of the tears leaked out, but she smiled anyway. "You wanted a brother, because it's lonely to be the only one. You wanted family. I understand that really well, Data, and I know how much you wanted him to be like you, but he just wasn't. So I hope you understand that I'm sad for you but I am happy he's never coming back."

“You appear to be very tired.”

Tasha took his hand and pulled him toward the bed. “I’m exhausted. Thanks for being here.”

“I will always be here for you, Tasha,” he said as she settled in his arms, her head on his shoulder. It was enough to help her feel safe instead of thinking any more about Lore. If she weren’t so tired she might have responded, but she felt hazy and her eyes ached. When she closed them she was asleep in minutes.

**\- Chapter 8 -**

Tasha picked up the folded pants from the replicator tray. She’d spent an hour selecting outfits on a padd and was making a final choice from five outfits for her evening out on the holodeck.

Deanna’s advice, doled out on the afternoons spent together while the ship traveled to Angel One, had helped her see that it really was a matter of research. With a little coaching from her friend in coordinating colors and types of clothing that flattered her figure, Tasha was able to narrow down her options.

The annunciator went off, and she turned to smile at Deanna as she admitted her. “Thanks for coming.”

“I replicated a palette that I thought would compliment your complexion.” Deanna held up a small case. “Can you share the plans for the evening with me?”

“I wish I could, but Data said he said he wanted to surprise me. So I’d like to go the extra mile.”

Deanna’s canny smile said she approved. “How exciting. What do you think the occasion is?”

Tasha giggled, holding the chosen outfit to her chest and pivoting on a heel. “I don't really know yet, but I really want to find out. Make yourself at home. I want to try this on first, be right back.”

Tasha had chosen leather pants that were a reddish-brown that went with the top, a sleeveless skin-tight bodice in shiny metallic warm gold. Two gold hoops for the earlobes and she stood in front of the full-length mirror, hands on her hips, to survey the result. She stepped into some heeled dress shoes, also in gold. Not her usual but, this was a special occasion. They were short heels. Hopefully she would be able to walk without tipping over.

When she emerged from the bedroom, Deanna had the makeup arranged on the coffee table. She nodded slowly. “It suits you. Come sit. Let’s see….”

Tasha perched on the edge of a cushion, turning to face her friend, and watched her pick up a brush and dab it in a patch of brown powder. “Tell me what and why you’re doing.”

“Well, this is going to be the base color, across the eyelid. Close your eyes.”

Tasha closed her eyes, and felt the gentle swipe of the brush across each lid.

“Now I’m going to add this color in the fold, above it, below the eyebrow.” Deanna was pointing at a glittery gold, as Tasha looked. She pointed at a deep red in a corner. “That one, in the corners. Then a dusting of this one,” she added, indicating a light neutral shade.

Tasha closed her eyes again and let her work silently for a few minutes. The soft touch of the brush tickled a little. There was a little bit of a cool dab, just in the corners of her eyes.

“I’m enjoying how happy you are,” Deanna said softly. “Are you ready to see?”

When she opened her eyes, Tasha found herself looking into a small round mirror that Deanna held up.

“Wow,” she gasped. Deanna had managed to complement her natural coloring, her outfit, and not make her eyes look painted on. There were small touches of gold glitter on the outer corners of her eyes, which had just enough color to make them stand out.

“A little color on the cheeks. Which do you think?” Deanna pointed at a smaller pallet of shades of pink.

“Um… this?” Tasha selected a slightly-darker shade she thought would go with the eye color.

“A good choice.”

“How do people learn how to do this?” One of many questions she could never ask before -- she couldn’t be open with other women as a result of mockery from others at the Academy. But Deanna was safe.

“Usually from friends, mothers, sisters but there are also formal lessons to be had, if one desires work as an aesthetician.” Deanna swept the large brush up on one cheek, then the other. She tilted her head and studied the results. “A little mascara on the lashes, I think. A lipstick to match the blush. And then a little attention to your hair.”

“I should set up the holodeck so I can practice. I bet there’s a program for it already,” Tasha said.

“Would it be as much fun as doing this with a friend, though?” Deanna closed the palettes and tucked brushes away in another case, then started to rearrange Tasha’s short hair with her fingers. “Computer, I would like some hair gel, medium strength.”

While Deanna went to the replicator Tasha picked up the mirror and studied her face from different focal points, holding the mirror at arm’s length. “I really appreciate your taking the time.”

“I don’t mind at all. It’s not as if I have so many friends on board who like to do this sort of thing. I never had a sister and my mother had someone to do her makeup for her.” Deanna sat down in front of her again and applied pinches of the substance in a small jar to strands of Tasha’s hair.

“Yeah. I mean, I asked Worf for help, and you know….”

Deanna stopped and looked down at her with a vaguely-insulted expression, before it dissolved into amusement. They laughed together at the thought of Worf helping with makeup. She dabbed a little more gel into Tasha's hair here and there.

“I think you’re ready,” Deanna said, setting aside the jar and holding up the mirror again.

Tasha felt stunning. Somehow a little hair gel and some makeup made her look so very different. Her blue eyes lit up, thinking about how all those dismissive young men in her Academy classes would look at her now.

“What do you think?”

The question was asked in a soft, careful tone that yanked Tasha all the way back to counseling. Tasha took stock instead of being flippant, because it was Deanna.

“I think that all the work we did, the biofeedback and the counseling, really did help,” she said at last. “If we’d tried this before then, I don’t think I would have let you touch me, and if I had let you, I would have washed it all off and felt ashamed. I still feel it, a little bit. But I know I don’t have to let that stop me, and I also actually like it, even if it feels silly, just a little.”

“I really hope you two have a good time tonight,” Deanna said with a grin.

“Oh, I sure hope so.”

“I will leave you to it then, so you can finish up.” Deanna gathered her things together. "And if you need to talk, I will be available in whatever capacity you need to do that. Have a good time."

"Thank you, Deanna, for everything," Tasha said warmly.

Deanna took her makeup with her, leaving Tasha to sit with butterflies in her stomach for a few minutes. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself, then reached for the comm badge on the end table.

"Yar to Data."

"Yes, Tasha?" The informality suggested he was not with anyone, and ready to go.

"I'm ready when you are.”

"I am in holodeck four. Would you care to join me?"

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

She got some head turns, when passing two ensigns who were leaving holodeck three, but otherwise saw no one. That was almost disappointing. She felt like flaunting herself, dancing, showing off.

Data was standing in holodeck four, turning in place to watch her enter the room, which was deactivated. She came in far enough to let the door shut behind her, and stood there waiting for his reaction.

"You are beautiful," he said simply.

She smiled, and while there was still a little fluttering of disbelief, she knew he was as honest and earnest as he ever was. Data was reliable and never exaggerated.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "And you look very handsome yourself."

He brushed his hands down the lapels of a very old fashioned tuxedo and stood at attention, bowing slightly.

"So where are we going?" she asked, with a happy lilt in her voice.

The ends of his mouth twitched upward. "Computer, load program."

The grid vanished -- the holodeck became a restaurant. It had to be something on Earth. All the holograms present were human. All of them wore formal gowns, or tuxedos similar to Data's. At once she felt awkward -- but it was the holodeck. No one was reacting to her mode of dress, though a few of the characters glanced their way as Data offered his arm and she took it. The restaurant was lit by small lamps on the walls, and by single candlesticks in the centers of the tables.

"This is a re-creation of a very famous restaurant in Paris," Data said. "The Zerda Cafe. It is actually an Algerian restaurant, and it has been in business since the early 1900s."

"It sounds nice," she said, wondering how he had chosen it, though she knew he would have performed exhaustive research.

He led her to a corner table and seated her, then took a small box out of a pocket as he settled into the chair across from her. "Since I was unable to determine when your birthday is, I took the liberty of declaring today to be the day to celebrate it." He placed the box in the middle of the table next to a tiny vase that held a single red rose and the candle.

She stared at it and gulped back tears, not wanting to ruin her carefully applied makeup. "Thank you," she whispered at last, starting to shake her head. She had celebrated a birthday before with friends, chosen a different day, but this was so unexpected and special that she set aside that explanation and reached for the box.

It was a flat box that opened on a hinge, and inside there was a shimmering golden necklace with a pendant -- a star, with many points, and a shining white gemstone in the center of it.

"It's beautiful. I love it." She spent a few minutes fumbling with the tiny clasp to put it on, centered the pendant just above her collar bone, and glanced up as a waiter approached.

"We require a bottle of your finest champagne," Data said.

Tasha watched the tall formally-dressed man stride off to do as he was asked. "So you really like my outfit? I’m beautiful in it?" She had vacillated between the pants and one of the dresses, but she had sided with comfort in the end. She didn’t care for skirts.

"I have concluded that your beauty is a constant, regardless of your clothing. While there is a great deal written on the subject of beauty, I believe the general philosophy that it is more than outward appearance -- that the nature of the person is the primary factor and not the more superficial aspects. Although I do believe your apparel tonight is most pleasing."

"I wanted to wear something different. It seemed like you were going to a lot of trouble, so I wanted to be dressed for the occasion."

"I have been thinking about the nature of our relationship," he went on. A flutter of nervousness restarted in the pit of her stomach. "I mentioned before that I have been researching courtship rituals of human cultures."

"You have." Tasha had listened to a lot of his findings, over the past month. Even offered feedback as to which parts she liked and didn't like.

"I have not asked if you wanted me to draw conclusions based on that research. I should have done so sooner."

Tasha shrugged. "I didn't mind hearing about it. It's interesting to me, some of it anyway. And I don't have a culture of my own outside Starfleet. Maybe we should develop our own culture, since we're in the same boat."

The waiter returned with glasses and a bottle. After the champagne was poured and the waiter was gone again, Data picked up his glass and waited as she did the same.

"To us," he said, raising his champagne higher. "Happy birthday, Tasha."

"To us." Tasha tipped her glass to lightly touch his with it, resulting in a light melodious ringing, and brought it to her lips. The effervescence tickled against her tongue, and made her smile again. As light as she felt.

"I am pleased that this has made you happy."

Tasha put the glass down, rubbed her lips together, and thought about this a little more. "So if you designated my birthday, since I don't know when the real one is -- do I get to choose one for you?"

Data put his champagne flute on the table as well. "I can tell you when I was reactivated after I was discovered on the colony, but you are correct -- I do not know the date I was first brought online. If it would make you happy you are welcome to choose a day."

"That isn't really the point though. You always talk about what you can do for me. But all your research, and all my research, and my counseling, and generally the consensus of anyone we know who has a relationship is that both people's needs are important. Your happiness is as important as mine. It would make me happier to know that this is good for you too, Data."

"Tasha. I believe I have reminded you before that I do not have emotions. My happiness is therefore an impossible goal."

"You just told me you were pleased," Tasha pointed out, propping her forearm on the edge of the table as she leaned forward a little. "Isn't that another way of saying you're happy?"

He hesitated, mouth open, and she congratulated herself on scoring one for her side. He had to consider it longer than usual. "In a manner of speaking. However -- "

"You work hard to learn about humanity. You paint, play music, and you even go to the holodeck and play the roles of famous humans from history. And what do humans do? They define things. There are thousands of human cultures. Some of them think of love, happiness and relationships very differently than the others. So until we have a good definition of what we mean by happiness, how do you know we're even talking about the same thing?"

His head turned slightly to the right. The head tilt said she'd intrigued him. "I believed we were speaking of the emotion, happiness."

"By definition, emotions are not the same, from one creature to another," Tasha said. "Ask Deanna. I only experience my own feelings. For all I know, Geordi's experience of happiness is different than mine. Except Deanna can sense the emotions of humans -- and she told me that it isn't so different at all, to her, from one human to another. I guess what others are feeling in some way that is consistent with the expression on their faces. When you were making the toast, I thought your facial expression meant you were happy. But I don't know if it means you feel that way and you just don't recognize it as happy, or if maybe for you, there's a different sort of feeling similar to happy?"

He paused, clearly regrouping. "You are attempting to draw conclusions based upon subroutines that guide my facial expressions. That does not mean I experience emotions."

"Data. Think about this for a minute. Why do you have subroutines that create facial expressions in the first place?"

He was going exactly where she expected him to. He had that indulgent expression now, with a fond smile. "As I have explained before, I was programmed to be approachable and appealing to humans. To have no expression at all would put my friends and colleagues ill at ease."

"But Data...." Tasha sighed, picking up her glass again. "Do you see? If sincerity and honesty are the keystone of a solid relationship, and we're responding to each other sincerely as each of us can, we're okay. I can't see your facial expressions as anything but honest, if you don't intend to deceive me, and I believe that you want to be truly yourself. So what if that means you have your own versions of the emotions that I have? Do you think you were really meant to be insincere, if one of the common human traits is to value sincerity in relationships?"

Data's head tilted the other way now, as he considered it with a minute frown. His gaze dropped to the black surface of the table. "That is a good question."

"And you're perplexed, because look at that frown. A little upset that you haven't thought about it, maybe."

He looked up at her from the table. "You are suggesting that I am upset. I am not."

"One of the first things I did when I started seeing a psychologist, after I was rescued from Turkana IV, was learning how to have feelings again."

A blink and another pause. "You did not have feelings?"

"I had the wrong kind of feelings." Tasha rolled her eyes. Deanna had explained this to her again, in more detail than Dr. Pollard had, and with better results. "I have a human brain that's the same as millions of others. If you take a human in a life-threatening situation, and keep threatening them repeatedly over time, pretty soon, that person will be living in a constant state of fear. Someone chronically in survival mode won’t feel safe right away when circumstances change for the better. They need time and help to reset their default. And the fact that they have that wariness to protect them, it keeps them from accepting the reality, that they are finally safe. I had to learn how to feel safe again. I had to learn how to enjoy things that humans generally find enjoyable, because even though I knew I was in a safe place I couldn't quit feeling otherwise. Until I was safe, I couldn’t have good feelings.”

Data nodded. "You think that I need to be taught to recognize emotions that you believe that I have. But if I had emotions I would have already questioned what they were and identified them. Counselor Troi would be able to sense them."

Tasha almost laughed -- she shook her head, rolling her eyes again. "Data! She doesn't always sense the emotions of humanoids who have a very different nervous system than she does," she exclaimed. "She didn't sense the Ferengi. There have been others she couldn't sense, like the Traveler. You have a very different construction than we do. It doesn't follow that you don't have emotions -- all humans learn what emotions are when we are very young, from other humans. From our parents and then from other people. I had a lot of catching up to do, and I still do -- I didn't have my family to help me so I had to learn how to do a lot of things including identify feelings from other people! We all need to be taught about feelings, how to label them, what they mean."

Data sat staring at her across the table, the candle flickering between them. She wondered how he was feeling -- she thought shocked.

"I have not been learning about emotions, other than observing how others experience them. This is something that I need to consider."

He stood up and she watched, shocked, as he walked away. Getting him to acknowledge that he had feelings was apparently shocking enough that he forgot they were in the middle of a date. She realized belatedly that she had failed to account for an emotional reaction she couldn't predict. Of course -- he had been focused on nothing but her needs, for every minute they'd been together. She had succeeded. He had suddenly started to focus on himself.

"Data!"

He stopped and turned around, standing between two tables in the aisle of the restaurant. "Yes?"

"Where are you going?"

"I am concerned that there is a malfunction that must be rectified. I should run a diagnostic. I do not wish to cause you any harm inadvertently due to this malfunction.”

“Wait,” she exclaimed. She closed the distance between them, reaching out. He took her hands, which she found reassuring.

“I believe that I need to speak to Dr. Crusher and Mr. Argyle,” he said.

“Can I come with you?”

Another frown. “You are not an engineer.”

She closed her eyes. It hurt, even though she knew he meant nothing by it, that he was alarmed and not thinking beyond the problem.

“You are worried,” he said. “Please do not be concerned. I am certain that this can be rectified.“

“What if it isn’t a malfunction?” she blurted, opening her eyes again. “You’re worried too, by the way. Worry does this. It makes people forget things like being polite. You think something is wrong with you, and you’re so upset you want to run away instead of working through it with me.”

Data was scowling now, his head twitching slightly, and that led to her worry more about the effect it was having on him _again_. “Please forgive me. I need to run a diagnostic.” He walked away. Not his normal walk, either, but a stiff-legged quick step that suggested tension. She had seen him run before, or walk quickly, but this was new. He called for the arch and was gone.

She sat down heavily in her chair and let the tears come. “Happy birthday,” she said with a snort, leaning forward until her elbows rested on her knees.

After a good cry into a napkin, she stood up and discontinued the program. Fortunately, she’d been there long enough that beta shift was well under way and the corridors were empty all the way to her quarters. She stripped off the pants, pulled off the top, and went to stand in the sonic shower to do away with the makeup and the salty tears drying on her face.

She was about to climb into bed when the annunciator went off. Throwing on a robe, she ran out to find that it wasn’t Data, but Deanna standing at the door when it slid open.

“I’m sorry to just show up, but I can sense you are terribly upset. If you want me to go, I will.”

“I think I did something wrong,” Tasha tried to say, but it came out more like a wail as she tried to control the distress and it distorted her words.

“No,” Deanna said. She took a step toward her. “You did something with good intentions and had an unexpected result.”

Tasha put her hand to her temple, wincing, hating the tears she couldn’t stop. Holding her breath for a minute in an attempt to get it under control.

“I don’t think it will end your relationship with him.”

Tasha sobbed, gulped, and sobbed again. It took her a little time to breathe without that catch in her throat. “Is he all right?”

“Dr. Crusher called me to sickbay to talk to him. After I asked a few questions, he decided that you were simply trying to understand him better. He went to his quarters to give you time to calm down.”

“Oh!” Tasha turned, unable to sit still, and turned right around again to face her. “As if that will happen so easily!”

Deanna smiled at that. “He doesn’t know what a sleepless night is like for us. He doesn’t really sleep.”

“I know. I can’t be mad at him, he just doesn’t know,” Tasha exclaimed, turning with a wave of her arms to go sit down. Deanna followed her and folded her hands in her lap. Tasha noticed her hair was down around her shoulders, though she still wore the same dress she’d had on all day. “I’m sorry you were disturbed by this.”

“It’s not a problem. You're my friend. I want to help.”

“I was just pointing out to him that he always looks like he feels emotions — he frowns, he smiles, he has expressions that suggest frustration or concern. And then he was so worried he was malfunctioning!” She didn’t want to go into a blow-by-blow accounting of the conversation, felt guilty in fact, because she was starting to think that she had been pushier than she had intended.

Deanna wasn’t smiling any more, at the end of the explanation. “Tasha, he may have emotions he doesn’t understand yet. He definitely has very sophisticated programming. But just telling him that would do as much good as it would have done, back when you were fifteen and just gotten to Earth, to inform you that you had severe post-traumatic stress and you would get better if you engaged in cognitive behavioral therapy.”

Tasha huffed. In fact, that was pretty much what Dr. Pollard had done. And as a result, she had ditched appointments for two weeks until her foster parents forced her to go back. “I know. Or I would have known, if I really thought about it before I said anything.”

“I wonder what made you feel so strongly that you wanted to do it, then?”

She chewed her lip, frustrated with herself now. “I really want him to be happy and to know that he’s happy. Is that wrong?”

“Are you under the impression there is something about the relationship that doesn’t meet his standards, or satisfy his curiosity, or any of the other Data-isms that mean the same thing?”

Tasha threw herself against the back of the couch and covered her red-rimmed eyes with her hands. “I’m so hopeless. Hopeless!"

“There is also the possibility that he is limited by the language. Standard is rife with the emotional language of humans. He can’t help but use terms that carry an emotional connotation, when he speaks the language. It’s a complaint that I hear from Vulcan crew sometimes, that they are using imprecise, emotional terms in order to communicate, but it’s Standard, so they defer to the necessity of a common language while in Starfleet.”

“But he’s so human sometimes. I guess I forget that he isn’t really.”

“He isn’t, he wants to be, he identifies with us more than any other species because his creator was human. As much a genius as Dr. Soong was, we can’t even be certain that was his intent, either. We only have Data, and he’s clearly unique in every way. Given the evidence available I’d say Data is probably better than Soong intended him to be. He’s evolving very well in fact.”

“I’m so glad he’s nothing like Lore,” Tasha said. She sat up again, shaking her head.

Deanna leaned forward and patted Tasha’s knee. “You should get some sleep, then contact Data and talk to him again.” She stood and started to leave.

“You really think we can work it out?”

“You had the usual Academy coursework in interspecies relations, and I’m assuming that working with non-human and half-human officers is a good reminder that differences can be handled. I’m sure you can come to some rational conclusions on what to do when you’ve thought about it a little more and talked it out with him.”

“Thanks. But I’m wondering how you can say that after all the evidence to the contrary.”

Deanna hesitated, half-turning in the open door. “Because he thanked me for helping you get ready for the date, and he asked me to check on you. You may not be completely right about Data, but I also can’t say that you’re completely wrong, either.” She gave Tasha a smile and wink, and left.

“Computer, lights down half,” Tasha said, going back to the bedroom. Deanna was right. Her eyes felt like they were full of grit, her head hurt slightly, and as she knew very well, sleep was the antidote for post-cry exhaustion. The reassurance had gone a long way to slowing her heart rate and making it possible to rest. It probably wouldn’t be an easy conversation, but at least she was sure now that there would be one.

**\- Chapter 9 -**

Tasha felt useless, watching the _Enterprise_ leaving Starbase 74 on the viewer in the command center. Behind her the senior officers, minus the captain and first officer, debated how this could have happened and what to do about it. Geordi had paged them from their various leisure activities when he’d attempted to contact Commander Riker, then been unable to return to the ship.

There had been no opportunity to talk to Data about the date last night. She wouldn’t bring up personal issues on duty. But he'd been cordial on alpha shift, and then they'd arrived at the starbase for the upgrade. Quinteros had reassured them that the Bynars were efficient and quick -- the mission following the upgrade was an urgent one, time was of the essence.

And now they were evacuated to the space station. She stood in the command center with Geordi, Data, and Worf, watched the _Enterprise_ leave space dock without so much as a check in from the captain, and now crossed her arms and stared at Commander Quinteros.

“The captain and the commander will be killed,” Geordi said. “The warp core will breach. There's got to be something we can do!”

“But it hasn’t. The ship is still traveling at warp.” Quinteros was at one of the consoles, watching readouts.

“Okay, so what do we do?” Geordi asked, raising his hands and letting them drop to his thighs with a slap. “Why hasn’t it exploded?

“Which is the nearest Starfleet vessel?” Data asked.

Tasha noticed Quinteros’ expression of surprise. He rarely sounded excited while on duty and in a crisis. “The _Trieste_.”

“I know the _Trieste_. Too small, too slow.” It had actually been Data’s first posting on a ship, Tasha knew.

“Plus it's sixty six hours away.” Quinteros sounded defeated.

“Where are the Bynars?” Data asked.

Again, a surprised glance. Quinteros said, “I haven't seen them.”

“They are obviously still aboard. Another Starfleet vessel must be sent to intercept the _Enterprise_ at Bynaus. They might be taking the ship to their home planet.”

“What makes you think so?”

“It is the best place for us to start.”

“He’s right,” Tasha said, drawing another startled look from Quinteros. “If the ship hasn’t destroyed itself, then it sure looks like the Bynars took it. The captain and the commander are not willing participants if they didn’t contact us. Where else would they possibly go?”

“What do you know about the Bynars?” Geordi crossed his arms, the set of his mouth firm and disapproving.

“They’ve been upgrading vessels here for months,” Quinteros exclaimed, now on the defensive. “Ship after ship. Successful upgrades each time. They never showed any inclination to hijack any of them, they’re interested in computers and programs, not the ship itself.”

“But were any of the ships like the _Enterprise_? As big and powerful?” Tasha thought about it a little more. “Our computer, is it bigger and more powerful than the others? Probably a real prize for a species who loves computers.”

Quinteros didn’t answer. He turned back to the readouts. “The system shows the _Enterprise’_ s beacon still active. I should contact Starfleet.” He spun and marched to the back of the room, presumably to have a little privacy for the report.

“I don’t know,” Geordi said quietly. “I sure wish we had some way to contact the captain or the commander.”

“Captain Picard and Commander Riker are resourceful and experienced officers who have been in more dire situations before,” Worf said, speaking up at last.

Tasha paced back and forth. She glanced at Worf, silent and frowning, and Geordi. Data was already watching her when she turned to him.

“I am sure they are doing everything they can to regain control of the ship,” Data said.

Geordi turned to the console Quinteros had been monitoring. He started to adjust one of the displays then sent a message. Hailing the ship.

“This is ridiculous. “ Tasha threw up her arms, as if tossing it all away. “What’s going to happen if we can’t get it back?”

“We’ll get it back,” Geordi said firmly. “Still no response from the _Enterprise_.”

“They would answer if they could. Someone else has control of the ship,” Worf exclaimed, repeating what they already knew.

“Do you think I am responsible?”

Data’s question sounded less assured and calm than his usual. _Was that despair?_ Tasha turned to stare at him.

“Responsible? How could you possibly have known?” Geordi was clearly a little surprised by the android’s question.

“My station is on the bridge.”

“You can't be on the bridge every second, Data.” Geordi was at least being reasonable.

“You are wrong, Geordi. I can. I do not need rest or diversion. I should not have been painting. I was negligent.”

This was a clear example of what she’d been telling him. Only an emotional reaction would do this to a person. Tasha blurted, “It’s a pointless discussion, Data. You could have been on the bridge and it still might have happened.” She turned around and said across the room, “Commander Quinteros, you have three ships in space dock. We need one of them _now._ ”

Quinteros ran his hand over his bald head as he returned to their side of the room. “We’re rushing repairs on the USS _Melbourne_ , but it's still eighteen hours until she'll be ready. There's nothing else you can do.”

Geordi whirled to the console again at the sound of a faint tone. He touched a control and a familiar voice sent a wave of joy over Tasha.

“Starbase 74, this is the _Enterprise_. Do you read me?”

Quinteros rushed across to the console. “This is Starbase 74. Captain Picard, what is your situation?” he said into the air, smiling in relief.

“We'll go into that later. Right now I must speak to Lieutenant Commander Data.”

Data, too, looked relieved. But he was back to sounding calm as usual. “I am here, sir.”

“Data, the Bynars have stored an enormous amount of material in our computer. We need to access it. We can’t.”

“The access would be available by code or password,” Data said, thinking out loud as he often did. As everyone often did, Tasha thought. They’d been doing it since this situation started.

The captain, and by association the ship, must not be in immediate peril, judging from the patient response. “Yes, I know that, Data, but what could it be?”

“File names can be anything, sir.”

“They want us to find it. They would have kept it simple.”

“Then a name, or a place. It could be something personal. In this case, in binary language, which is ones and zeros in groups of eight or sixteen characters.”

“Would they have kept it that simple? We'll try it. Picard out.”

After the connection terminated, Geordi stepped in and worked at the panel for a minute. “Data’s right, the signal came from the Bynaus system. That’s two hours away at warp four, they must have traveled at high warp to get there.”

“Well, I feel a lot better — obviously the Bynars have been neutralized. I’m going for a walk, to work off all this nervous energy. Call me when the ship is back?” Tasha headed for the door. “Anyone wants to join me, feel free.”

She heard footfalls behind her as she left the starbase command center, and wasn’t surprised that it was Data. She smiled over her shoulder at him but kept walking. They cleared the door and walked down a corridor toward the turbolift at the end.

“I will return to the command center to wait for the _Enterprise_ ,” Data said. “However, I have not had an opportunity to speak to you about our conversation last night.”

Tasha shook her head. “I know, but let’s resolve this situation first; maybe we’ll have time when the ship is back.” She paused, picking her next words carefully. “I’m all right, Data, and I’m not going to make any decisions about anything related to our relationship until we’ve talked about what happened. I apologize to you for making bad assumptions.”

“Bad assumptions?”

She winced. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have assumed you were having emotions anything like mine, or that you weren’t aware. I really want this relationship to work, but I shouldn’t be sabotaging it by seeing what isn’t there or deciding you should do or feel something that you don’t. I can’t assume you’re going to be as human as I am. That’s a basic principle of interspecies relations, after all, I need to apply it.”

Data was immobile for a moment, then reached out and took her hand. The unexpected gesture in turn froze her in place. “I would like to understand more about why you wanted me to feel those emotions. Also what you mean when you say you are seeing something that is not there. But it does sound like a much longer conversation than we have time for at this moment.”

“When the _Enterprise_ gets back, we’ll have time.”

He leaned forward and his cold lips brushed her cheek, then he was walking back toward the command center.

Tasha huffed, grinning to herself, and entered the turbolift.

The starbase was a typical example of its kind, with commercial public decks and Starfleet-only decks. Because it was one of the bases focused on repairs and upgrades, there were a lot of personnel in the yellow-black uniforms. She found the gymnasiums on deck twenty-two, and ran on a track for a few laps, then went to the showers for a fresh uniform and cleaning up. By the time she got back to the command center she felt much better — clear head, grounded, breathing freely without feeling short of breath.

The _Enterprise_ was on its way back. Geordi was happier, and Worf had already left. Tasha crossed her arms and eyed Quinteros. “So we’re going to get the updates and the Bynars will be taken into custody for ship-napping,” she said.

“They should be,” Geordi said, turning his head toward Quinteros. “She’s right, I hope?”

“How long will the updates take if the Bynars do not participate?” Data asked. He stood with Geordi at the console, both of them facing it.

Quinteros crossed his arms now. “Well. That’s hard to say. No way to know what condition the computer is in until the ship gets here, which should be within the hour. I’ll have my best teams standing by, however, and we’ll have the work done as quickly as possible, if I have to divert teams from other projects. If you’ll excuse me, I have some arrangements to make.” He turned and went to the other end of the room, where a couple of his staff were sitting at their stations.

“Guess we’ll hear from the captain when they get back. I could use a meal, want to go get some late lunch?” Geordi asked, waving a thumb at the door.

“Sure. Let’s go. Coming, Data?” Tasha followed the helmsman out of the command center.

Data came alongside her, not taking her hand — he had asked permission each step of the way throughout the relationship, and public displays of affection had not been approved yet — but walking close enough that he could easily have done so. Geordi slowed at the end of the corridor, glancing back at them, and snorted.

“Just put your arm around her already, Data. It’s only me,” Geordi said, smiling and shaking his head.

“I was not aware that you knew that the lieutenant and I are engaged in an intimate relationship,” Data said.

“Well, I don’t think there’s anyone who doesn’t know. Maybe the captain. You spend an awful lot of your time together off duty to be just another co-worker. I mean, if you’re keeping it to yourselves, fine, no worries — I’m no gossip. But it’s not like it’s invisible.”

Tasha exchanged a look with Data; he raised an eyebrow at her. “Permission granted,” she said with a little smile.

Data took her hand as they joined Geordi in the turbolift. He chuckled quietly, as Tasha asked for the commercial deck, where the restaurants were.

**\- Chapter 10 -**

It took another three days to actually talk about their disrupted date. They had spent the remainder of the time at Starbase 74 with others, and then the ship had immediately been en route to the crisis on Pelleus Five. The mission had kept them busy -- Tasha had led a security team escorting the first officer on the away mission, and Data had been on duty more or less continuously. She thought he might still be feeling some guilt about the incident with the Bynars and trying too hard to make up for it.

Finally, they left Pelleus, and were dispatched on an assignment that would be less demanding. Stellar phenomena and surveys mainly involved crew sciences and stellar cartography, and the sector they were scheduled to survey was three day's travel at warp six from Pelleus. That left the security department with some time for detached duty, barring any red alerts. So she went to the bridge in the morning, then left it to Lieutenant Worf and went to the gymnasium for an extended workout, then a shower and a nap. When Data didn't contact her at lunch, she sat down on the couch in her quarters as she tapped her badge.

"Yar to Data."

"Data here."

"Are you free for lunch?"

"Affirmative. I will see you momentarily."

She asked the computer for soup, chicken vegetable, her standby when she was nervous, and sat at the table with it. She was fetching the glass of water when he arrived. "Do you want something?"

"I will have the same, thank you." He often tried whatever she was eating.

When they were seated, she smiled at him, and waited for him to start.

"I have missed you," he said, surprising her.

"Really? We've been working together on and off for three days."

He smiled faintly as he picked up the spoon. "I have considered what we discussed further, and made some adjustments to my use of language. It is obvious that honesty is important, both to you and to our relationship. I spoke to Counselor Troi, who speaks many languages, about the nuances of Standard and the emotions implied in words such as 'missed' -- I do have a sense of something missing, when I do not spend time with you off duty. In that way, the last mission has been most informative. I have benefitted from our relationship. I would experience loss if we were no longer spending our leisure time together. Therefore, even though I mean something other than an emotional reaction by saying so, I do miss you."

That was still sounding emotional, but he was making it more obvious that he was trying to explain his experience using words that were not as precise as he needed them to be. She ate soup while she thought about it, as she'd told herself she would do this time.

"You have told me that you love me," he went on after a few minutes had passed. "I did not reciprocate. That was an error, if I take into account my research into the nature of romantic relationships."

"What? Wait, Data.... What are you saying?"

"You are human, Tasha. I have no template of my own for such a relationship, so it would be more logical to adopt yours."

"I'm human, but I'm not really typical. I thought we talked about this, that we don't really have to have a template to go by?"

"Yes. However, you have made it obvious that you have expectations that have not been met, about your emotional needs."

Tasha sat up a little more and left the spoon in the bowl. "Data. Let's start over with this. When I was making those assumptions in that conversation we had about your emotions, it's true that I was expressing a need. I could have thought more about how I expressed it and it would have been easier to talk about for both of us. One of the problems humans have is that strong emotions can derail rational thought. I was excited that you were happy along with me. I didn’t think about it at all. I went a little too far instead of letting you tell me about what was really going on for you."

"So some of what you were saying was influenced by unconscious emotions or thoughts? Interesting. What is it like to have thoughts of which you are unaware?"

"Like I said, sentences come out less rational than intended, or the wording is off, or we get caught up in what we think is true and find out that it isn't. So I might have been wrong, or you might have some sort of emotion subroutine, but it isn't necessarily what I thought it was. Either way, it wasn't my job to interpret any of that for you. I should have asked questions and tried to understand instead."

She went back to eating soup, since he was doing the same and considering what she was saying.

“This is what you meant when you said you were seeing things that were not there. You believed you saw emotion in me,” he said at last.

“I’m sure you know that most humanoids have biases and sometimes skewed perceptions. It’s why the captain insists on investigation and careful examination of objective evidence on missions.”

Data nodded assent and stopped trying to eat soup. Folding his hands on the edge of the table, he regarded her with the expression that usually preceded something he felt was very serious.

“Do you want me to feel love for you, Tasha?”

Tasha stared at him, mouth open. She thought they’d covered this already. “I want you to feel whatever you feel. If you can’t feel emotions why would I expect that?”

“I am concerned that I will be unable to meet your needs,” he said sadly.

She shoved the bowl aside. Her stomach wasn’t going to accept another bite, thanks to the anxiety. “We’re getting caught up in semantics. Would you say that you are satisfied with our relationship so far?”

“I am uncertain we will be able to reconcile my lack of emotions and your needs. Otherwise I have been quite satisfied.”

“Well, I am reasonably certain that we can come to some agreement and move on from this. You’re a rational being, I’m a rational being, and we know that different species have intimate relationships in spite of their differences. Vulcan and human pairs find a way, do they not?”

“They do. However, Vulcans merely suppress emotions. They devoted hundreds of years to development of methods to control them. So Vulcan practices would not be an adequate template for me.”

Tasha crossed her arms on the table’s edge. “What if we decided that your lack of emotions is not an impediment?”

He cocked his head to the left, intrigued. “Everything I have learned about relationships suggests that reciprocal love is an essential part of a human relationship.”

“But love means different things to different people.”

“We are veering into semantics again.”

Tasha giggled. “Sure. It’s all we’re doing. Aren’t there a thousand ways to define love? We need to agree on one, that’s all. You just decided you can miss me, didn’t you?”

Data’s head twitched to the right as sometimes happened when he was accessing further information. “Some ways love has been defined include a willingness to prioritize another’s well-being or happiness above your own. Or, extreme feelings of attachment, affection, and need. Or, love can be a choice to commit to helping, respecting, and caring for another, such as in marriage or when having a child. There has been much debate about whether love is a choice, if it is permanent or fleeting, and whether the love between family members and spouses is biologically programmed or culturally indoctrinated.”

“So which is it for you? You’re lucky, you get to just decide,” Tasha said.

Another blink, and a quick shake of the head. “Decide?”

“What do you believe love should be for you? Which version would you prefer to receive? What would you be able to give?”

“It would appear to me that making a choice to commit to help and respect someone would be most possible for me. As I do not have the emotional aspect, but I am capable of choosing.”

“And I can feel love, but it can also be a choice for me. I feel an attachment to you. I was fine with how things were, until we had the misunderstanding.” Tasha leaned a little more forward. “When you try to understand my needs and meet them, that’s when I feel loved.”

“I did not ask if I was meeting your needs. I believed that because I am an android, I was not yet meeting all of them. Curious.”

“It was an understandable assumption to make. Wasn’t it?”

“I am not human. I have reviewed to date one thousand two hundred and forty-three books and articles on the nature of love and human relationships. I believed that it would take time to learn how. But I have already met your needs. I find this surprising.”

“I can see that,” Tasha said. “I didn’t expect you were so -- “ She stopped on the verge of naming him oblivious. It wasn’t that, exactly, she thought. There were so many gaps in his knowledge, but in other ways, he was so observant. She’d supposed his earlier assertion that he remained unclear about motivations and interpretations of human behavior had been his erroneous assumption; it was looking less true.

Data smiled at her with a note of triumph. “I love you, Tasha.”

She inhaled slowly and chose her words carefully. “And I choose to love you, just as you choose to love me. Is it sufficient to answer the question of whether we can meet each others’ needs?”

“I believe that it is. Thank you for your assistance in clarifying the matter for me.”

Tasha took her bowl and empty glass to the replicator. “So how about we agree that we’ll just continue to be together, and if something is confusing we figure it out together just like we did today? I’ll do my best not to make assumptions. I trust you hold my well-being as a priority, and I’ll do the same thing. I won’t expect you to do anything you don’t want to do, and if you tell me to stop doing something, I’ll stop. I won’t demand that you change. If I want anything from you, I’ll ask, and if you say no I can accept it.”

“Those are acceptable parameters,” Data said.

They were ones she thought they already had, but it was better safe than sorry. She didn’t want to have another misunderstanding and he didn’t seem to mind redundancies.

“I was wondering about something,” she said tentatively. “Did you decide that you weren’t meeting my needs based on anything I said or did, or was it extrapolation from the idea that you’re an android, and everything you read about humans?” She wandered over toward the couch as she spoke, sitting on the end of it.

He took his dishes to recycler and joined her on the couch, sitting close but not touching her. “I have been told often that I am not understanding what someone is going through. That my interpretations are often too literal. I struggle to understand when someone is not saying what they are saying. Tone of voice is helpful, but it is not clear to me when to use a literal interpretation of a statement.”

“I can help you work on that, you know. But so far as my needs go, I can be explicit and let you know if you ever fall short. Okay?”

“Yes. I will trust that you will do so.”

“So I’d like to know about your Starfleet career,” Tasha said, leaning back. “Before the _Enterprise_.”

His brows drew together slightly. “You already know of my career.”

“I know what ships you were on, where you were stationed. I don’t know if you still have friends from the _Trieste_ , though.”

Data wasn’t smiling as he responded. “I do not.”

“So it wasn’t like it is here?”

“It was nothing like the _Enterprise_. I have in the past been treated as an object. I had not thought of that as cruelty -- no more than being rude to the computer would be cruel. But you previously pronounced it as such, and I can see how you would assume that was so.”

Tasha leaned back and rested her feet on the edge of the table. “Data, do you always devalue yourself that way?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a Starfleet officer. A sentient being. But you make excuses for people who treat you like a thing.” She couldn’t help the anger in her tone. It infuriated her to know that people could be that ignorant.

“I am certain that you have noticed that I am a synthetic life form, completely artificial. It is expected that there will be those who see me as no more than that.”

“Including you? I’ve heard you take the blame for things that are not your fault. When the Bynars took the ship, you chose to believe that you could have done something and that you failed, instead of seeing it for what it was. Starfleet trusted the Bynars to upgrade our systems and they betrayed that trust. It had nothing to do with you at all.”

Data regarded her with the same impassive manner he usually did on the bridge. “As has been observed, there are unexpected crises for starships, and knowing that I should be ready to -- “

“Everyone knows that, Data. Everyone understands that we can all die unexpectedly, or the ship destroyed. Yet none of the rest of the crew seems to blame themselves when something like that happens. The fact is, Worf could probably stay awake for a day or two, and there are others who could do the same. No one expects any single officer to save the ship every time.”

Data’s perplexed frown suggested he disagreed. “You do not think that I need to do the best that I can?”

“Did someone tell you that you had to stand back to back watches constantly? Do you think that you’re somehow not doing your best if you don’t?”

“On the _Trieste_ I was expected to, so I have continued to do so. Captain Picard encouraged me to make more progress toward promotion. One of his suggestions was to strive to excel -- stand out from the officers who merely do as expected, nothing more. Since I can be on the bridge for multiple shifts at a stretch I see that as an opportunity to prove my worth. Is your interpretation of this different?”

“Um… yeah. It is.” Tasha spent a moment thinking of all the examples of manipulative, dismissive or exploitative behavior she’d witnessed, and decided to just go straight to explanation. “I wonder if someone told you that working extra shifts was working toward promotion, to get you to do extra work without crediting you for it? Or if it was a way of deflecting you into something that would be less effective? Promotion isn’t just about working hard, it’s about the quality of the work you do. Making yourself stand out from the rest -- sometimes taking calculated risks gets attention, showing that you have a head for strategy, for leadership -- qualities that make you a good candidate for command. It’s not just about the quantity, but also the quality, of your work.”

“You are saying that my former commanding officer had different motives. That he was not making suggestions with my advancement in mind.”

“I don’t know what his motives were. But if sometimes, someone gets an idea about you, it can take a lot to shift that belief.”

Data took a moment to consider. “Is this something you have had personal experience in, Tasha? Someone made assumptions about you that had a direct effect on your career?”

“Oh,” she said with a wry grin, thinking about her first posting. “You could say that.”

“Would you tell me about it?”

“Well… I was very eager and took everyone at face value. That made me very easy to manipulate and take advantage of, so people -- not all of them, just a few -- did so.”

“I do not believe that is happening here,” Data said.

Tasha draped her arms across her stomach and shook her head, letting her head fall against the back of the couch. “No. The _Enterprise_ is the best place I’ve been. It makes me feel hope again.”

Data was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, “I agree.”

**\- Chapter 11 -**

Things went back to normal, and Tasha was grateful. On duty, she was alert and off she was either working out, spending time with the few carefully chosen friends she had, or with Data. She was starting to feel that they had finally stabilized and everything in the personal realm was as she hoped it would be.

But, when her six month review came up, she started to feel nervous about her job. The captain had scheduled a meeting with her. He’d said nothing to her about her relationship with Data. It wasn’t a secret; the rest of the senior staff knew. Going into the ready room, she did her best to breathe, put on the professional persona that worked so well for her, and not let him see how nervous she was.

Picard sat at his desk, glanced up at her with the slight smile of greeting he gave them when relaxed and acting in an official capacity. “Lieutenant. Have a seat. Would you care for anything to drink? Tea?”

“Thank you, sir.”

He fetched two cups of tea from the replicator alcove. Hers was the green tea she favored. Somehow he’d remembered, from the short meeting they’d had after she’d reported for duty when the _Enterprise_ had launched.

“So. Six months have passed already,” he began, in that conversational way he had when the rare mood struck him to be jovial and personable on duty. “This should be but a formality. You have excelled in your duties, and I have no complaints. Commander Riker’s commentary agrees.” He nodded toward the monitor on his desk. “So I will ask you the question of what you feel that you need to improve.”

“I, I suppose that I could start with being more articulate,” she said with a chuckle.

The captain smiled with more warmth and amusement at that. He waited for her to go on, picking up his cup.

“I have at times felt the pressure of trying to live up to expectations, but overall I enjoy the challenges of being chief of security on the _Enterprise_. I have nothing but respect for the other senior officers, we have excellent staff. It’s been worth all the work it took to get here. Specific things that I feel I should improve… I still struggle with the scheduling. It’s a bigger department than I’ve been in previously.”

The captain nodded. “You have managed our security department with the diligence and efficiency that I expected. I can see that you will only improve from this point. I want to thank you for your hard work, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, sir, for the opportunity.” Tasha almost went on in a similar vein, expressing all the gratitude and admiration she felt, but she knew the captain was not so indulgent of effusive emotional displays. After a moment of careful consideration she said, “I’ve learned a great deal working with you, sir.”

The captain blinked. He set down his cup, folded his hands on the edge of the desk, and studied her for a moment. “Are you finding your balance?”

She gaped for a few seconds. “Balance?”

“When I met you, it was obvious to me that you were single-minded. I too had such an attitude in the early years of my career. I considered anything that did not further my Starfleet career to be superfluous. Even though I enjoyed history and archaeology, every breath I took and every waking moment, my mind was on Starfleet -- perhaps an overreaction to poor choices I made earlier, as an ensign.” He seemed to drift off in thought. With another blink and a slight straightening of the shoulders he was back. “The _Enterprise_ is filled with well-rounded people. Artists, musicians, even a historian. Archaeologists. We have opportunities to balance our lives, and Starfleet has come to an understanding that this is important, to have officers who are performing at their best we need to have time away from duty. I wonder if you have taken advantage of this opportunity.”

“Well -- ” Tasha had to pause and regroup. “Sir. You know my history. You know that I’ve never been one to make friends, at least not close ones. I do feel that I’m learning to balance, because I’m finally able to look at my fellow officers and call them friends.”

She held her breath for the time it took him to respond. Would he take the opportunity to comment on her relationship with Data? But he merely continued to smile, and said, “A sentiment that they share with you. That I share. Thank you, Lieutenant. You may return to your post.”

Tasha nodded, stood up, and left the ready room. Out on the bridge, Commander Riker was in the captain’s chair; he gave her a smile and a nod, then turned his attention back to the main viewer. Deanna stood up from her chair and followed Tasha up the bridge. At the top of the ramp, Tasha glanced back at her; Deanna pointed at the turbolift. She led the way in, and Deanna asked for deck ten as she joined her.

“You were very nervous,” Deanna said, as they walked the short distance to her office. “How did it go?”

“He told me I was doing an excellent job.” Tasha sat down on the couch without delay.

“So it went well. Why are you still anxious?” Deanna was smiling as she settled, smoothing her turquoise skirt over her legs.

“I thought he might -- I don’t know, I guess I don’t see why he really would bring up my relationship with Data, but -- “

Deanna waited, but when nothing was forthcoming, she said, “You thought he would disapprove.”

“I know Starfleet has a general policy of not interfering in personal matters of officers. I know he generally…. I don’t know,” Tasha exclaimed, feeling ashamed of it all. “I guess it matters a lot what he thinks of me, and I wouldn’t want to let him down.”

“I wonder if some part of you believes he would disapprove?”

“I don’t know! I want him to see me as a good officer,” Tasha said. “I don’t know if his standards include anything about relationships with other officers, though.”

Deanna’s smile said she understood. “Maybe he says what he needs to say on the subject of the personal affairs of other officers by saying nothing at all.”

“Huh,” Tasha replied, taken aback. “I didn’t think of it that way.”

“The captain tends to focus on duty, when on duty. But I’ve noticed he seems to enjoy spending time with friends when off, and he signed up for the painting class.”

“He said something about finding balance,” Tasha said. “I guess he thinks I focus too much on duty?”

“Or that you may need to review and make more deliberate decisions?” Deanna shrugged a little. “You do tend to be quite intense about your career.”

“Oh, here we go again,” she said with a smile. Deanna had made that observation before.

“But it’s a common issue that humans tend to struggle with, when they are very enthusiastic about something such as a project or career. They become very single-minded. Some neglect their own health, losing self-awareness as they strive to excel and promote.”

Tasha wished they were in Ten Forward. Ordering a drink didn’t seem appropriate in the counselor’s office. “Yeah, I get that. And you’ve helped me accept that there’s more to life than that.”

“I’m glad to hear it, because I haven’t had an opportunity to see much of it put into action. You haven’t spent a lot of time with me over the past month. It’s been a busy series of missions, and then you had a karate tournament. And how is Data?” Her knowing smile went sly.

“He’s enjoying the painting class. We haven’t had any more big misunderstandings -- we’ve been asking for clarification more often. Everything’s been going pretty well.”

Deanna’s smile faded. Tasha wondered why; there really was nothing wrong, and she’d enjoyed the past couple of months. Time with a variety of friends, time with Data, and time operating the security department of the flagship of the fleet. The culmination of everything she’d worked for.

“You may as well say it, whatever it is,” Tasha said.

“Are you satisfied with your relationship with Data?”

Tasha felt her smile disappear. Her arms drew in, but she crossed them over her stomach and leaned back, rather than let herself cross them over her chest. Pressing her lips together briefly, she assessed and guessed.

“I am, for the most part. I’m still taking my time with the sexual component.”

Deanna seemed less tense with the admission. Being open instead of avoidant was reassuring to her. “Do you need to start treatment again?”

“You probably think so, and you’re probably right. But I don’t want to.”

“Fair enough. So I can count on having a drink after alpha shift?”

Tasha grinned. “Sure. Tomorrow, though.” She stood up, gesturing at the ceiling toward the bridge. “Got to go -- see you later.”

She spent the remainder of Alpha Shift at tactical, thinking about all she’d discussed with the counselor and the captain, vacillating between contemplation of her future and regular checks of the sensor readouts. They were on their way to Starbase 84, from the Neutral Zone. Traveling at warp usually afforded them opportunities to recover.

She decided, since they were unlikely to experience a red alert, that it would be a date night. And thinking about her conversation with Deanna led to deciding that she’d cruised along on autopilot long enough. She was as comfortable with Data as she was going to get. She’d talked to him every day, told him about her feelings and thoughts, taught him about her boundaries and her feelings on privacy. Especially after he’d referred to some of her past in Ten Forward, hinting at things she didn’t want to be public knowledge. He had updated his parameters to suit. Knowing that he would keep their sexual activity completely private, she thought it was good timing to move past kissing into something more intimate.

But anticipating led to thoughts of the past. She was not, however, finding it difficult to remember, so as she went off shift, riding the lift alone to her quarters, she gave it her attention.

After the intimate conversation she’d had with Data, admitting to him that she had failed with Adin before, she’d put herself through another two weeks of intensive biofeedback with Deanna’s help, to settle out residual symptoms of post-traumatic stress. It seemed to have paid off. She was able to think about Darryl Adin -- the security officer who had rescued her from Turkana IV, taken her to Earth. The man she had idolized. He’d kept in touch with her as she worked through the intense process of catching up, going to school and taking the entrance exam.

When she was nineteen he had returned to Earth and she’d fallen in love with him, only to have their relationship destroyed in the aftermath of his court-martial and subsequent conviction of conspiracy with the Orions. It seemed so far away now, so long ago.

Looking back at it, she recognized what she hadn’t seen at the time. She had suffered for years the crushing guilt and self-recrimination she’d always felt when she thought about her blind trust and hero worship, to the point that she had forced herself to have sex with him, pretending to enjoy it -- and that she thought about it now without feeling anything but disgust for him confirmed how successful treatment had been. How could she have not seen, not understood, that he had to be taking advantage of her? He had to have been aware of how inexperienced and anxious she was. She’d been a dumb kid. Innocent in matters of the heart, completely vulnerable and without anyone but Adin for guidance. She wondered now if he had ever felt as he’d claimed to, if he had ever loved her, because even now that she wasn’t having the trauma reaction she couldn’t remember any of his behavior suggesting that he truly respected her.

As she entered her quarters, she found herself unbothered by wondering what had happened to him. That was new. Before, she would have spent hours ruminating and being angry and hurt. She almost asked the computer but shrugged it off and went to change out of the uniform. It didn’t matter where he was. It felt good that it didn’t matter.

Tasha chose a short dress in black, seamed in silver, with a sheen that gave it a shimmer when she moved. The necklace that Data had given her went well with it. Though the neckline was just below the collar bone in front, in the back it plunged low, revealing more than half her spine. She put on matching black shoes and posed in front of the mirror, then sat down and applied make-up as she’d learned from Deanna.

“Yar to Data,” she said as she chose a lip color.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

That meant he was with other officers. “Am I catching you at a bad time?”

“No. I am about to leave engineering.”

“Okay. I have something I’d like to go over with you.”

“I will be there shortly.”

While she waited, she smiled at her reflection. The flutter in her chest was anticipation, not anxiety. She did not miss the anxiety. When she heard the door open she rose and went out of the bedroom.

Data smiled at the sight of her. “Surprise,” she exclaimed, twirling in place. “Do you have time for Paris?”

“I believe that if I did not I would have to make time. That is a stunning dress.”

“I reserved a holodeck,” she said as she took his arm.

They entered holodeck two and brought up their program, which they had revisited several times. “Our usual table is always free,” she joked as they sat down.

“And the waiter always knows to bring us the correct beverages,” Data said, going along. The man in the tuxedo brought the bottle and glasses, pouring their champagne without a word. One of the modifications they had made.

She crossed her legs, leaning back in her chair with the glass in her fingers, smiling and gazing at him. He still wore the uniform, but she would soon have him out of it, so it didn’t matter.

“There is something different,” Data commented.

“There is?” Her tone hinted that she knew and appreciated what it was he found different.

“You are happy but also you have an elevated heart rate and dilated pupils, which leads me to believe that you are excited.”

She laughed, leaning to put down her glass. “I would like to do something different on our date.”

His head came up a little. “You would?”

“I would!” Tasha leaned back and smiled at him. Under the table, her toes found his foot and slid up his boot.

“Why are you touching my foot, Tasha?”

She pulled it back and sighed heavily. “Data… look. When I am trying to flirt with you, please don’t ask for specifics that way. It’s a total mood-killer.”

Data’s head twitched and the corner of his mouth slid upward. “Was that flirting?”

“Okay. Let’s do it this way. While we’re on a date, if I touch you, or hint at anything sexual, it’s not a good time to ask questions. Just go along with it if you want to, and if you don’t want to do something we can do something else. If you need explanations and answers, we can do it when we’re not on a date. Do you want to stop the date and talk about it, or would you like to go on?”

“I would like to continue. If you will explain later, I will go along with whatever you wish. I trust you, Tasha,” Data said.

She smiled warmly at him. “Thanks, Data.” She set aside her glass, stood up and came around the table, slid over his lap and settled there, facing him, leaning down with her hands on her shoulders. She kissed him, playing her tongue along his lips, starting to work on removing his uniform.

When she had his shirt off, he reached up and slowly touched her cheek. She followed his lead, letting him draw her down to kiss him again. His lips were dry and cold. He held her as she kissed him, but in a supportive manner rather than an impassioned one.

She sat up again. Leaning back against the edge of the table, she spread her legs wide, planting her feet on the ends of the arms of Data’s chair, letting the skirt slide back. He took it in, looking up and down.

“Ah,” he said, as if solving one of his holodeck mysteries. “You wish to copulate.” He said nothing further, stood up, let his fingers trail up her thighs as he leaned in to kiss her.

She squirmed in anticipation as his fingers traveled in and began to tease and caress. It felt… not bad. But not as good as she’d anticipated. Mechanical. There was just something about the way he touched her that was too measured, too stiff. The kiss was tentative.

She pushed her tongue past his lips, putting her arms around his neck. Trying, testing. He responded to her assertive behavior with his own; she felt his fingers start to penetrate her, and while her breath quickened she didn’t feel the same old reflexive trepidation as before. He pushed in and out slightly a few times in a straightforward, almost clinical manner.

She pushed away. Slid back on the table to sit, and tried to catch her breath. He let her move away and waited with his hands at his sides, looking at her, concern starting to show in his face.

“Are you all right?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I wanted to, but it’s just different.”

“We do not have to do anything, if it is too uncomfortable,” Data said so very quietly.

“It -- yeah, okay. Thanks Data. You know, I’m hungry. Let’s go back to my quarters and eat dinner.”

He agreed to it without further questions, or distress. He ate dinner with her, chatted about the day’s events, and went on his way. He didn’t even ask why, though he had done so more nights than not, she did not want him to stay the night.

Tasha sat on the couch and felt alone, for the first time in a very long time.

After about an hour, she shook herself out of it. “Yar to Troi.”

“Troi here.”

“Do you have some time to talk?”

“I do. Would you like me to come to you, or should we meet elsewhere?”

“I’m in my quarters. Thanks.”

When Deanna came in Tasha immediately felt guilty. Deanna’s hair was down and she wore a sheer, loose dress of the sort that she would wear around her quarters in the evening.

“It’s so late,” Tasha said, watching her friend come to sit next to her. “I shouldn’t have called.”

“Not at all.” Deanna smiled sadly at her. “You’re upset about something?”

“Did he come talk to you?” Sometimes he talked to Troi, as she was so patient with his efforts to understand human behavior.

Deanna shook her head. “What happened?”

“I don’t think I can do it after all,” Tasha said, wilting inside at the admission. She made a face -- tried very hard not to cry, despite the pain. “He tries so hard. It isn’t his fault. He touches me but -- it doesn’t feel real. I love him, but I don’t feel… I guess I don’t feel attraction. Oh, _what is wrong with me_?”

“I don’t think there is anything wrong with you.”

Tasha rolled her eyes, still trying not to cry. “I feel so terrible, leading him on that way.”

“Leading him on?”

“I wasn’t feeling triggered, like I was before. I wasn’t feeling so anxious, or having flashbacks. I kissed him and it felt okay, for a minute, but -- he was doing things because he knew I wanted him to do them. He didn’t do anything to me because he wanted it. He didn’t touch me like he wanted to touch me.”

“You wanted to be wanted,” Deanna summarized. “But Data can’t want sex.”

“I thought it would be okay,” Tasha said softly, feeling broken inside.

“We all have misfires, Tasha. Data won’t hate you for it,” Deanna said, reaching to take Tasha’s hand. “He doesn’t have a subroutine for sensuality. He doesn’t have hormones or a hippocampus. But I think he probably wanted to make you happy, didn’t he?”

“That made it even worse.” Tasha rubbed at her eyes. The tears were simply unstoppable.

“You said you talked this over with him. That you came to an agreement,” Deanna said gently.

“And you’ve said several times that emotions don’t do what they’re told. And love isn’t the problem with this… I didn’t know what it would be like, trying to have sex with him without all the trauma and the feelings associated with it. I thought it might be like it was before. When we all had the virus. But it’s clear now that it just isn’t. I don’t know what to do!”

Deanna was silent while Tasha collected herself. When she stopped rubbing at her face and looked at her friend at last, Deanna was seated with her hands in her lap, watching her with a concerned but not distressed expression.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Tasha said.

“You do?”

“You’re going to say I should talk to him about it.”

“I don’t think I would say that,” Deanna said. “Because I already know that you know you should. At this point, I’m wondering what I can do to help you with this. I want to, but you haven’t wanted counseling, so that’s out.”

“You’ll probably also tell me that if I decide it’s still okay to continue having a relationship with him, and he agrees, that all is well.”

Deanna shook her head in bemusement. “Maybe I should now ask you what you’ve decided about that?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t.” Tasha started to cry again. “I want to sleep on it. Think about it. Then talk to him.”

“An excellent plan. If you need me, you know where I am.”

“Thanks, Deanna.” She smiled, though it was becoming hard to do. “Are you still leaving tomorrow?” Deanna would be taking a shuttle to some conference she planned to attend.

“Oh, yes, but you can always call me,” Deanna said. “It will take time to get there, and time to get back -- it’s only three days of workshops and there will be down time between as well. So you can count on reaching me by subspace if you need to.”

“Thanks, for everything. But I won’t call unless I really need to talk. I don’t want to bother you.”

Deanna’s warm smile assured her she wasn’t a bother. “You can call me. It’s what friends do. I’ll see you before I go, no doubt. Good night.”

She watched Deanna leave. Exhaled loudly, and looked down at the rumpled dress. Tasha scowled as more tears started and leaped up from the couch. As she went to take a shower she peeled off the black dress and left it on the floor of the bedroom with the shoes.

Not a failure, she told herself. What was it Deanna said? A misfire.

Tasha hated being caught out, hated feeling stupid, because rationally she knew and kept telling herself that it made sense to need to figure out the things she had been unable to experience before now. This would be another step in the healing process -- she was catching up, learning how this all worked, and Deanna would help her sort through it.

She thought about Deanna, because her presence was reassuring. The counselor never criticized her for being out of control or forced her into anything. Her warm smile, her expressive eyes, and her calm confidence appealed to Tasha.

She moved under the jets of water, rubbing the cloth over her body mechanically, and thought some more about Deanna in the white dress; the sheer material had been attached to a neck band and draped loosely in folds over her breasts, flowing down and over her hips, her entire back bare. She hadn’t been wearing undergarments, obviously.

Tasha realized then how she was reacting to the memory of Deanna’s body, and flinched bodily, bumping into the translucent wall of the shower. She started to cry again, and finished washing rapidly.

“Stupid,” she said to herself, as she dried herself roughly with the towel.

But, too late. She knew what she knew. She was more attracted to Deanna than she was to the kind and wonderful Data, and that made everything a hell of a lot more complicated.

When she curled up in bed, she tried to meditate. It took a long time to stop the chattering of her brain, but when she did, she finally fell asleep.

**\- Chapter 12 -**

It took nearly all of the three days of the conference for Tasha to sort herself out. She had to, before Deanna came back. She applied herself to analyzing the situation and testing herself.

She challenged herself on the holodeck. In a program with a nude beach, she walked down the sand among sunbathing humans, openly gazing upon them and gauging her response. Men, women, running everywhere. All of them were beautiful. Some of them should make her feel attraction to them on a physical level, surely.

No joy.

She banished the program and stood on the grid, eyes closed. Imagined Deanna standing in front of her wearing the sheer outfit, or the white gi she wore to Worf’s mok’bara class, or one of her blue form-fitting dresses. Imagined her smile, her eyes, the warmth she exuded. There was definitely a difference, and then when she imagined Deanna naked….

Not good at all.

Why was imagining Data not the same? Why was she reacting to Deanna with this intense attraction that left her squirming?

Exhaling, she snapped, “Computer, run program Yar 10.” The simple program came up, leaving her standing at the starting line of a track. “Three opponents, level six.” She dropped into the stance, waited for the tone, and ran hard and fast as she could, winning against the three holograms by three strides. Sweating and panting, she marched headlong through corridors to her quarters and took a sonic shower, threw on a uniform angrily, and spent fifteen minutes trying to meditate, then ten minutes actually doing so.

By the time she reached the bridge she was able to smile at her fellow officers and take her station without all the agitation. Worf arrived after her, but still five minutes early. “Good morning, Lieutenant,” he said as he came to a stop on her left. He touched the board, examined the results of his scan, and looked back to her. “Routine deep sensor probe indicates no obstacles or vessels within a range of three light years.”

“Confirmed,” Tasha said approvingly.

“The martial arts competition is in three days. Are you prepared?”

“I will be if you'll meet me on the holodeck later. I need your help on the Mishiama wrist-lock and break. If it works on you, I can use it on anyone.” The competition she’d arranged had slipped her mind, thanks to her epiphany. Something she felt guilty about; her martial arts career was a point of pride for her. She was good at it and she knew it.

“A valid assumption. Who is your first competitor?”

“Science Officer Swenson.”

Worf nodded curtly. “You will defeat him easily,” he announced.

“I'm more concerned with Lieutenant Minnerly's kick boxing.” Minnerly was amazing. Agile, strong and able to turn on a whim to knock his opponent across the room.

“You are favoured in the ship's pool.” Worf sounded proud of her.

“You bet on me?”

He raised his head slightly, nostrils flaring. “A sure thing.”

An announcement from the helm drew their attention. “Captain, estimated rendezvous with the shuttle in one hour and ten minutes,” LaForge said.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Picard replied, sounding at ease. “It'll be good to have Counsellor Troi back, won't it, Number One?”

“It certainly will.”

Tasha noticed the blinking light on the tactical console, but Worf beat her to it. “Sir, I'm receiving an emergency transmission from the shuttle.”

“On main viewer.” The captain was tense, as they all were, no doubt. Tasha’s heart had started to hammer -- she calmed herself with deep breathing, focused, and followed the order.

“I can't, sir. We're receiving audio only.”

“Then let’s hear it.”

“Aye, sir.” She opened the channel, and the sounds of a concussion and some static were the first thing they heard.

“What a jolt!” came Lieutenant Prieto’s voice. Tasha held her breath. Were they under fire?

“Position report,” Riker exclaimed.

“Sir, I have an onboard systems failure. You'll have to tell me where I am.”

LaForge spoke up to answer that. “I read your coordinates at three seven zero point two three six. Confirm.”

“I can't confirm. My instruments are haywire.”

The captain asked the question Tasha had. “Lieutenant Prieto, is Counsellor Troi all right?”

“Yes, sir. Just a little shaken. We're being buffeted a bit. Losing more power! My flight control computer's fried.”

 _By what?_ Tasha wanted to shout. If they were under fire the ship needed to move to defend them!

“Bridge to Main Engineering,” Picard said.

“Lieutenant Commander Leland T. Lynch here, sir.”

Tasha rolled her eyes. Glancing at Worf, she saw the same expression of longsuffering. Lynch was so full of himself. She hoped it didn’t get in the way of his ability to fix the engines. They were running at impulse while the dilithium crystals were being maintained.

“How long before we can return to warp power?” Picard asked.

 **“** Captain, I'm in the middle of realigning the dilithium crystals.”

Tasha wondered if the captain were rolling his eyes as she was. Clearly Lynch was caught up in his self-importance and not hearing the urgency. Picard put more intensity and some disapproval into his response. “There is an emergency. We need warp drive. How long?”

“Twenty minutes. Maybe more.”

 **“** We don't have it, Mister Lynch.” From disapproval to anger.

“I'll align it by hand.”

“Whatever it takes.”

“Aye, sir.” The channel closed with a chirp.

“Shuttle, this is the _Enterprise_. Your coordinates now read two three seven point one zero one. Ben, you're dangerously close to a planet,” Geordi said, now sounding as urgent as the captain.

“I can see it.”

“The planet is Vagra Two, sir, in the Zed Lapis sector. Uninhabited.” Data inserted information into the back-and-forth smoothly.

“Lieutenant, report!” Picard barked.

“This is Counsellor Troi. I'll relay, sir. The pilot is busy. We've lost most of our impulse power.” Tasha could hear tension in her voice, but she was calmer than anyone else, which was amazing since she was in the shuttle while Ben Prieto was trying to keep it together.

“Engineering, status report,” Picard exclaimed, returning to the issue of being unable to get the ship there to rescue the shuttle’s occupants.

 **“** Working on it, Captain. Three minutes. But there are no guarantees.”

Prieto’s desperation was starting to color his voice. “Captain, we're out of control. We're caught in the planet's gravity.” There was a sputter, a pop, and silence.

Tasha’s fingers flew, without waiting for the order to try, but there was no answer. “I’m trying to hail the shuttle, but they aren’t responding, sir!”

“What the devil is going on in engineering?” Picard growled.

“Lynch is having to rush a delicate procedure,” Data put in.

The comm system chirped again. “Engineering to Bridge. Leland T. Lynch here, Captain. We now have minimum warp drive.”

Geordi jumped on it. “Course plotted and set for Vagra Two.”

“Warp eight,” the captain demanded, saying what they were all feeling.

“I said minimum warp drive, Captain.”

“You heard the order, Mister Lynch. Make it so!”

“Yes, sir.”

Tasha exhaled, as the ship went to warp. Unfortunately it took too long to get there. Twenty minutes, at high warp, and then they were dropping back to impulse. Tasha loosened her hands, as she realized she’d been gripping the edge of the console in front of her, and fervently hoped they weren’t too late.

“Approaching Vagra Two, Captain,” LaForge announced as the planet rose on the main viewer.

“Strange, sir. There's no emergency signal from the shuttle as yet,” Data said, puzzled.

“What is this place, Mister Data?” The captain stood up, tugging his uniform down a little. An anxious habit of his.

“There is little information in the library computer other than the fact of its existence. Our sensor show no signs of life forms, virtually no vegetation.”

“Atmosphere?”

“Barely habitable, sir. But breathable.” Data had learned not to always give detailed information. In this situation, all they wanted was habitable. They had to find the shuttle.

“Standard orbit.”

LaForge said, “Aye, sir. Standard orbit.”

“I've located the shuttle,” Worf exclaimed. Tasha felt a little guilt; she was caught up, not tending to the console and the scanners, and she wondered if that would be held against her later. For once, she didn’t feel so anxious about that, however.

The captain asked, “Life signs?”

“Not yet, sir. Still probing. It appears to be buried under a lot of debris.” After a few anxious minutes, Tasha saw it the instant Worf did, but bit her lip. He said, “I may have something, sir. Faint life signs. Very faint.”

“How many?”

“There's no way of telling from here.” Something was interfering with the sensors. But everyone was on the same wavelength -- they didn’t need perfectly calibrated sensors to rescue the two officers.

“Data, can we beam up the injured?” the captain asked.

“No, sir. Our sensors are not fully penetrating whatever the debris is.”

“Number One, prepare your away team.”

“Right away. Yar, Worf, Data. Riker to sickbay, we need medical staff in transporter room four.”

Tasha went into the turbolift and stood with Data and the others, trying not to imagine the worst. Shuttle crashes could be bad. She stared at her toes and focused on breathing.

“I am concerned about Counselor Troi as well,” Data said quietly. “But we will find her. We have no evidence that she has been injured.”

Tasha glanced at the others’ faces, sighed, and looked at the floor again. “Thanks, Data.” The attempt at comforting her did nothing; everyone looked worried.

When they materialized Tasha surveyed the landscape. It was a barren, rock-strewn planet and nothing stood out to her, except for a pool of tarry-looking substance about twenty meters away. The shuttle lay beyond it, one of the nacelles torn off and broken.

“It appears that the main compartment has not been breached,” Data commented, watching the tricorder readings.

Tasha tapped her badge. “Yar to Prieto. Yar to Troi.” No response.

Dr. Crusher had her own tricorder out. “Let's go. The life signs are weak.”

The landing party started to move, and Tasha waved Worf to flank the others while she took a position on the other side of the group. She scanned the horizon again, and spun about when Crusher gasped. The black pool was moving in front of them. It spread out, blocking the way.

“What is this?” Riker exclaimed. Data scanned with his tricorder.

Tasha headed to the left. “No idea. We'll go around, just to be on the safe side.”

But the pool shifted to the left in front of them.

“Let's try the other way.” Tasha waved to Worf to lead the way around the other end. The pool of tar spread out more, nearly filling the area between the away team and the broken shuttle.

“ _Enterprise_ , this is Riker. We've got a problem. There appears to be some kind of -- I don’t know if it’s a creature or some naturally-occuring phenomena, blocking our path.”

“Maintain an open frequency,” the captain ordered.

“Aye, sir.” Riker glanced at Tasha, and turned to Data. “Analysis, Mister Data.”

“Inconclusive, sir. I cannot tell you what it is, but I can tell you what it is not. There is no evidence of neural or circulatory systems. No internal organs. Cellular structure unknown. It does not have any proteins which are known to us.”

Dr. Crusher pointed at the middle of the puddle. “It's narrower over here. We can get over it.”

But the ooze moved again! As if in response to her words, it widened, increased yet again in size. Tasha drew her phaser, and Worf followed her example. They exchanged a glance and she gave him a quick shake of the head -- not time yet. But they were ready.

“How is it moving, Data?” Riker asked, his voice pitched slightly higher than usual. This was not the way most away missions went.

“I do not know, sir. It does not appear to have a skeletal framework or musculature.”

“Then what's causing it to move?” Riker sidled toward Worf, who moved with him, edging toward the end of the black slick. Again, it soundlessly moved into their path, flowing until it reached a wall of rocks. Worf growled ever so softly.

“It appears to be following us, sir,” Data observed.

“No sign of intelligence, no brain as we know it, yet evidence of thought, Mr. Data?” Riker asked.

“Insufficient information, sir.”

 **“** Is it a life form, Data?” the captain asked via the open channel.

“It is possible.”

“Very good, tin man.” The voice emanated from the pool, causing everyone in the away team to take a step backward. Worf and Tasha trained their phasers on it. The black ooze began to move once more, gathering itself up into a tall column even though the size of the puddle didn’t diminish.

The captain was speaking again. **“** What is it, Number One? What are you seeing?”

“It looks like it’s alive and intelligent,” Riker said warily. He held out his hands, waving Crusher and Data back as he put more distance between him and the puddle.

“Number One, I don't believe that the location of the crash and the proximity of the creature is a coincidence,” the captain said.

Riker cleared his throat and addressed the tall column of ooze. **“** I am Commander William Riker of the USS _Enterprise_. Do you have a name?”

“I am Armus. Why are you here?” Articulate, for a mouthless, faceless pool of tar, Tasha thought. She wondered how the thing worked. Why it spoke Standard. Or was it telepathic and projecting words into their minds directly?

“We mean you no harm. We have injured crewmen in the shuttlecraft. We need to get to them. May we pass?” Riker was putting forth a good effort, but Tasha suspected it wouldn’t be as easy as that and kept her phaser aimed at it. If it was going to let them pass, it would have.

“You haven't given me a good enough reason.” Was it laughing at them? Certainly it was mocking them.

“Preserving life, all life, is very important to us.”

“Why?”

“We believe everything in the universe has a right to exist.” Riker’s tone wavered. He was staring at the shuttle.

“An interesting notion which I do not share. You may now leave, if you wish.”

The dismissive nonchalance angered Tasha. “We're not going without our shuttle crew.” Riker shot her a warning glance. She knew he had to be concerned about the people in the shuttle, and his caution was entirely warranted, she knew.

“I warn you.” Whatever Armus was, he was definitely mocking them.

Deanna was trapped in that shuttle, possibly injured and dying. Tasha lost patience with the thing -- it was baiting them, and she no longer cared why, or what it was. She knew she had to get to the shuttle. She took a step away from the rest of the away team.

“Lieutenant,” Riker scolded. But Tasha took another step and watched the puddle move, the same measured drift to block her path.

“We have people who need attention. We won't hurt you, but we must help them,” she announced. Gathering herself, she went into motion, phaser at the ready, trying to outpace the movement of the puddle to do an end run around it.

She felt a jolt of searing pain, and then nothing.

**\- Chapter 13 -**

Deanna Troi walked slowly through the corridors on deck six. She expected to find Tasha’s quarters empty.

Her death had been sudden and terrible. Being an empath was never more difficult than when someone died.

Crashing on the planet had been frightening enough, but when the away team arrived, she sensed their fear and knew that Armus was playing cruel games; the entity had taunted her as well, trying to frighten her more, taking out the rage and pain it felt on her and then on the others. She had cried out in the moment she felt Tasha’s death, broken down in tears.

All that brilliant intelligence and exuberance, snuffed out in an instant. Just because Armus wanted to kill her.

The memorial service had been three days ago. Tasha’s quarters remained as she’d left them. The order had not been given until today for the quartermaster to empty them. Deanna had intervened; she informed Lieutenant Nordoff that she would put away Tasha’s things before he dealt with the rest. As Tasha had left no specific directions about specific items, she thought that giving some things to Tasha’s friends and disposing of the remainder would be best.

Deanna grieved more than her other friends, at least the ones she could sense. Tasha had been unique; more friend than co-worker, or client. It had been a delicate line to walk. Tasha needed a therapist. Deanna could see from the first that while she functioned well in the line of duty, Tasha had a long way to go emotionally. She needed help specifically with relationships. Her resistance had been frustrating, but Deanna had eventually decided to do the best she could by responding to Tasha as a friend who was aware of Tasha’s therapeutic needs. Not completely uninhibited and open as a friend, due to the potential for misunderstandings or triggering deep-seated insecurities, but not overtly being a therapist either. She had hoped that Tasha would overcome her fear of counseling and eventually embrace the process, so she could finally work through the remainder of her attachment issues.

At times Deanna regretted starting down that path of being a strange hybrid of friend and therapist. She had sensed the attraction Tasha had felt for her here and there, especially in the last weeks. Deanna had decided to address it only if Tasha brought it up to her. Sometimes it didn’t seem that Tasha was completely aware of it. Sexuality had always been so difficult for Tasha, since it had been so tied to violence when she was very young and Tasha had never had a safe place to explore her sexuality. The Academy had apparently been traumatic in its own way, all the young adults there had likely expected her to be like the rest of them, raised in cultures that didn’t abuse children.

It was also not always easy to watch Tasha struggle with the relationship with Data and do nothing. As ship’s counselor she was also responsible for Data’s mental health, and while both Tasha and Data had gone into their relationship of their own free will, at times she had been on the verge of questioning Tasha or Data about it. She had respected their privacy in the end. That appeared to have paid off.

Deanna felt Tasha’s absence keenly. She wished she had not gone to the conference, but knew that the survivor’s guilt she felt was false. Tasha died doing what she lived to do. It wasn’t Deanna’s fault that it happened. But it was tempting to think that way, when it was her shuttle that went down and had it not been for the conference she chose to attend, she would have never left the _Enterprise._

When Deanna went into Tasha’s quarters, she glanced around the spartan living area, then went through the open bedroom door. She was startled to find Data sitting on the end of the bed.

“Hello, Counselor,” he said calmly.

“Data. I told Lieutenant Nordoff that I would pack her things,” Deanna said. “I thought Tasha might like to see some of her special things go to her friends. How are you doing?”

Data hesitated, for once not launching directly into a description of how he was and why. He cocked his head, frowning a little. “I find that I am experiencing some difficulty. Tasha’s absence has been troublesome. I have spent each night since her death here instead of my own quarters. It helps me.”

Deanna crossed the room, turned around, and sat with Data. “You miss her that much.”

“I cannot stop thinking about her. Fortunately I am able to work as well as process other thoughts. I am not certain that I will recover, Deanna,” he said, quietly.

Deanna hugged his arm, smiling sadly. “Consider that this is not something that one recovers from. She was your friend, and she was my friend. I will think about her often and miss her acutely, and over time the pain will subside. I’ll be able to think of her without as much pain but I will still feel her absence in my life. Just as I feel the absence of my father and my grandfather. People we love become a part of us, and not having them here with us means we are left with only memories of them. It’s sad, but I don’t know that I would ever want to forget them. This is natural, Data.”

“Do you think she was happy with me?”

Deanna took a moment to word it properly. “I think she was very happy, and sometimes less so. She did love you very much. But it isn’t possible to make anyone happy all the time.”

“I wanted her to be more at ease,” Data said. He raised his left hand, and Deanna saw that there was a necklace in his fingers -- the one Tasha had shown her once, proudly, a little embarrassed. “I know that she had a very difficult childhood and I wanted to help her. She seemed to find her past frightening.”

It was a little more complicated than that, but that was now irrelevant. “Did she share the details with you?”

“I do not believe she shared everything, but she did tell me about her parents’ deaths and the subsequent events prior to her rescue from Turkana. She also told me much about her life after rescue.” He turned the pendant face up, so the light in the room caught in the face of the star. “I chose this for her because it reminded me of her.”

“She was so very bright,” Deanna said. More tears came, thinking about Tasha’s radiant smile. “It feels as though half the stars went out.”

“Would you like to have this?” Data held out the pendant on his palm. “I do not wear jewelry.”

Initially Deanna’s reaction was to reject the offer. On the surface it seemed just one more thing Data didn’t understand. But she reached for it, let her fingertips trace the points, gently took it from him. The star pendant had been one of Tasha’s prized possessions. She only wore it off duty, afraid the chain would break and the pendant might be lost on some planet.

“Are you sure, Data? I know this was very dear to her,” she said softly.

“She loved you as well, Deanna,” he said, matter of factly.

“You don’t want to keep it?”

“Mementoes are a way of remembering someone. I remember every moment I have spent with her. I do not forget anything.” He smiled at her. “I will have my memories. And Spot.”

“Spot?”

“Tasha had a cat when she was a child. I was made aware that one of the families aboard have a cat that had kittens. I arranged to give Tasha one of the kittens when it was ready to leave its mother.”

“Oh,” Deanna gasped, caught off guard. “She would have loved a kitten, I’m sure. What a thoughtful gift.” Tasha had actually grieved her cat in counseling, and had decided that she never wanted another pet. Data didn’t need to know that, however.

“It is a playful cat.”

Deanna raised her eyes to his face from her contemplation of the pendant in her hand. “You have the cat? Where is it?”

“She is in my quarters, of course.”

“But you have been here, or on the bridge. Data, small creatures need care. They need socialization while they are developing. It’s important to spend time with young mammals.” Was Data actually so caught up in mourning that he’d forgotten what he certainly must have known from researching? Or had he been so distracted he wasn’t conforming to his habit of over-analyzing every move he made?

“Yes,” Data said, with some guilt. “Of course. I should go. Would you like to meet Spot?”

“I would, thank you.” Deanna stood up with him and looked around. “Do you want to finish going through Tasha’s things, or would you like me to help you? We can come back later today to finish.”

“I would appreciate your assistance in the matter. I would not know what would be best to do with her personal items.”

Deanna went with him to his quarters, thinking about how far Data had come and yet, there were these gaps. In a way the relationship with Tasha had accelerated his growth. But still, he surprised her at times. He was definitely impacted by the loss.

The cat was an orange tabby, and when they entered it raced across the room and dove under the bed, mewing in distress. Data walked around the end of the bed. “I will get her,” he said, dropping to a knee.

“Data,” she exclaimed. “Come back. I’ll show you.” She waited for him to move away from the bed, then sat on the floor. She looked around, saw there were no toys evident, then resorted to the necklace in her hand. Unfastening the clasp, she pulled the chain from the pendant, then tossed the chain out, picked up the end, and twitched it along the floor.

The kitten took some time, but when no one threatened her, Spot dashed out and pounced on the end of the chain. After a little play time with the necklace, Deanna reached slowly and let the kitten sniff then gnaw on her fingers.

“She needs time to learn you are safe for her,” Deanna said. “And then more time to learn to love you. You have to be gentle and understand what she needs from you.”

“Like Tasha,” he said.

Deanna almost protested the comparison, but in essence he was correct. Tasha had been strong, but when it came to relationships, to the more sensitive and subtle matters of the heart, so fragile.

Deanna smiled at the kitten as she rolled it on its back to wrestle with her fingers and tickled its belly, enduring the batting of paws tipped with claws. Some day, Spot would be a lazy, affectionate cat like her mother, if given enough of the gentle nurturing necessary for a feline to be secure and relaxed. She hoped Data would be able to do that.

“I think you will find that a kitten has very simple needs,” Deanna said. “But you need to play with her, feed her and give her fresh water every day. Expose her to other people. Teach her now when she’s young to see you as someone she can trust so she isn’t afraid of everyone later.”

“I will access more information on cat care,” Data said. “Thank you, Counselor. Perhaps I have been more distracted by the loss of Tasha than I believed.”

“If you would like to talk to me about it some more I’m happy to -- as a friend,” Deanna said. “Any time. Because I know it will help me too. Maybe we should work together tomorrow night to take care of Tasha’s things. You should spend more time with Spot, I think she’s hungry. She might even miss her siblings.”

Picking up the chain, Deanna rose to her feet. She watched Data pick up the kitten, which struggled against his hands and started biting his arm through the sleeve of his uniform. “I will see you tomorrow, Counselor.”

“Good night, Data.” She left him there to deal with his kitten, smiling at his attempt to talk to it -- he seemed to think that telling the cat that she shouldn’t claw people would help.

Perhaps Data’s literal nature would change with time. It seemed to be a stable feature, however much he learned from his friends. But from everything Tasha had said, and the way they had looked at each other, there had to be more to him than was apparent. Even if Deanna couldn’t sense his emotions, the android gave every appearance of loving Tasha.

Deanna returned to her own quarters and, before she got ready for bed, put the necklace on her night table.

“I’ll miss you, Tasha,” she murmured. “How brightly you burned.”

_\- fin -_


End file.
